


Breaking the Ice

by lemonade_zest



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, M/M, Meet-Cute, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Victor with a K, Viktor is a skating instructor, Will I Continue This?, With A Twist, Yuuri is a barista, coffee shop AU, god no I don't write that stuff, slow burn?, yes I will apparently
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonade_zest/pseuds/lemonade_zest
Summary: Yuuri did not expect to make a new friend on the side of the road at six o'clock on a Tuesday morning, yet there he was, late for work, with a stranger sitting in his car.Or: Viktor's car breaks down, and Yuuri kindly offers to help him, sparking an unexpected friendship... and perhaps later, something more. It's also a coffee shop AU.
Relationships: Celestino Cialdini & Katsuki Yuuri, Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin & Katsuki Yuuri, Otabek Altin & Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont & Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Yuri Plisetsky, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky, Yakov Feltsman & Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 50
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri heaved out a heavy sigh, eyes trained on the road in front of him. It was too early for being awake, he decided, glancing at the clock on his dashboard, 5:42am. It didn’t matter that he had the aid of the coffee sitting in the cupholder next to him if said coffee was too scalding hot to drink. He cursed himself mentally for not finding someone else to do opening for him on a Tuesday morning.

Then, he noticed something. A car pulled over on the side of the road, a man standing with his back facing the road, the car’s hood open. Yuuri felt very tempted to just ignore the stranger, just as pretty much everyone else speeding past him was doing, but his moral compass had other ideas. So, he pulled over behind the car. Upon getting out, he realized he had not braced himself for the cold January air. His hands gloveless, he shoved them into his coat pockets as he felt his cheeks go red with the cold. He could see his breaths leaving his mouth in the crisp morning air..

“Hey, are you alright? Do you need help?” He called out to the stranger, who he could now see more clearly. The man was tall and slender, with gray hair and blue eyes. The gray hair was not a sign of old age though, no this man was very much young. Very much around Yuuri’s age.

“Oh,” he turned to Yuuri, “actually, yes, I do need help.” The man seemed a little flustered, phone in his hand, no doubt googling a solution to his predicament. He approached Yuuri, holding out his hand politely. “My name is Viktor.”

“Yuuri,” he responded politely, shaking Viktor’s hand. It was cold.

“Oh really? That's the name of a family friend of mine,” he commented with a smile. Yuuri, unsure of how to respond to this, just nodded. His right hand fidgeted with a few loose coins in his pocket as he tried to ignore his ears going cold. Viktor cleared his throat, “Well, anyway, my car won’t start. I opened the hood thinking maybe I’d see something wrong… but, well,” Viktor broke eye contact with Yuuri to look at the opened hood of the car, “to be quite honest, I haven’t the slightest idea how cars work.” The man ran fingers through his bangs, looking back to Yuuri again. “I’d pulled over to the side of the road to take a call, and I turned it off so I wouldn’t burn any more gas, but then it wouldn’t start.” Yuuri nodded, realizing he wasn’t exactly a car expert, either.

“I think your battery must’ve died?” He suggested, walking over to the opened hood as if he could tell if something was wrong with the car if he just looked at it. Spoiler alert, he couldn’t.

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense,” Viktor mumbled. 

“I think if I jump the car, it might be able to start again so you can get to a gas station or something to get it fixed,” Yuuri said. Viktor just nodded along, trusting that this man knew what he was doing. Though Viktor wasn’t quite sure, what with how Yuuri spoke with a timid voice and kept his hands hidden in his pockets. _He seems to know more than I do, at least_ , he figured as he watched Yuuri go back to his own car. Viktor asked if he could help with anything.

“No, I don’t think so,” Yuuri said, as he attached the cables first to his car, then to Viktor’s. Viktor, feeling a bit useless, just stood and observed. “Try starting your car now,” Yuuri instructed. So Viktor did as he was told, but it didn’t work. They tried a number of times, Yuuri searching the internet to make sure he had connected everything properly, but to no avail. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I think it just doesn’t work sometimes.”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just have to get it towed,” Viktor said, putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, which he quickly withdrew. He had been told in the past that he was sometimes too friendly and touchy when it came to meeting new people. Yuuri, who seemed a bit shy and reserved, didn’t seem like the type of person who would take well to a near stranger being so forward. “I’ll go ahead and call them,” Viktor said, taking a step back and pulling out his own phone. He noted the low battery and googled the nearest towing company. While he was on hold, he noticed Yuuri making a call of his own. 

“Yeah, sorry, do you mind opening up?” Viktor heard the faint sound of someone else speaking on the other end, but couldn’t make out any words. “No, no, everything’s alright,” Yuuri assured his companion on the phone, “I’m just helping someone whose car broke down. It’s not that busy on Tuesdays, though, so you’re probably fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yuuri listened to another response, a relieved smile coming to his lips. “Thanks, sorry,” he said, and then hung up. Viktor quickly turned his head, tuning back into the waiting music on his phone, realizing he had definitely just been both eavesdropping and staring. Finally, a woman’s voice came through and he spoke to her and arranged his car being towed.

“We’ll be there in about thirty minutes,” she informed Viktor with a kind voice. 

“Thirty minutes?”

“Yes, sorry, we’re understaffed this morning and you’re a little far away from where our trucks are.” Viktor sighed. 

“Alright, thank you, ma’am.” Yuuri looked at Viktor expectantly, obviously having heard the comment about it taking thirty minutes. Viktor confirmed Yuuri’s suspicions with a wry smile.

“Do you want to wait in my car? It’s freezing out here,” Yuuri asked politely.

“If you have to be somewhere I don’t want to-” 

“No, it’s fine. I got someone to cover me, don’t worry,” Yuuri assured fervently, “I wouldn’t want you to freeze your ass off out here.” So, Viktor complied, finding himself unable to refuse. Yuuri quickly cleared off a few belongings from his passenger’s seat, tossing them into the back. Viktor got into the sudan, appreciating the warmth he hadn’t realized he was missing. Yuuri got into the driver’s seat, turning on the car, but not the engine. Viktor watched him switch on the seat warmers and rub his thin hands together in an attempt to generate some heat.

“I hate winter,” Yuuri commented.

“Well it’s my favorite season,” Viktor said, not unfriendly, “I grew up in a colder climate so I’m used to it.” Yuuri nodded.

“Where were you going at 6am, anyway?” 

“Ice skating rink,” Viktor said, staring out the window in front of him. “That’s where I work, I teach lessons there.”

“It’s a bit early for that, though.” Yuuri turned his head towards Viktor, who he had to admit was objectively gorgeous now that he could see him up close.

“You’re right,” Viktor chuckled, “you caught me. I like to skate before opening,” he explained.

“That’s cool. Are you good at it?”

“Good enough to teach kids, I suppose,” he said, looking Yuuri in the eye. 

“You ever compete?”

“No, I never had the time or the discipline for it. I tried to get coaching, but I always wanted to do my own thing. Ironic, given that I teach lessons now, though.” Yuuri nodded, adjusting his glasses and staring out at the cars driving by. “What about you?” Viktor asked kindly, “What am I keeping you from right now?”

“Oh, I’m the manager at a café. Sunrise café. The one on North Avenue,” he said. 

“Tough competition with a Starbucks a few blocks away,” Viktor noted. Admittedly, he had never been inside the café for just that reason. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, with a nervous smile, “we’re doing okay, though. Our drinks are cheaper, so if people choose us just once, we find that they usually come back.” Viktor nodded.

“What’s your favorite drink?” He asked, tilting his head a little. Yuuri picked up his abandoned coffee from the cupholder (surely it must be cooled now), and opened the lid.

“Black coffee,” he said, showing it off.

“You’re telling me you make drinks for a living and you drink your coffee _black_?” Yuuri nodded with a sly smile, taking a sip of his bitter drink. Then, he sputtered, nearly spitting it all back out. It was still, somehow, too hot. Viktor laughed at him, the warm and joyful sound completely filling the small car. Yuuri could feel his face going red for a combination of reasons.

“It was too hot,” he mumbled, a nervous chuckle following afterwards. 

“I hate it when it's like that,” Viktor said, recovering from his loud laughter. “I get a drink and then I can’t even drink it because it’s too hot?”

“Yeah, the flavor extracts best when the water is a certain temperature. That’s why drinks are served practically boiling,” Yuuri explained. “Trust me, I hate my drink being scalding hot as much as the customers do. I have to wait forever until it’s the right temperature to drink. Once the coffee is made, it doesn’t matter at what temperature you actually drink it.”

“That’s why I prefer cold drinks. Cold, sugary drinks. I’m not a huge coffee person in the first place, so if I’m going to drink it, it better taste nothing like coffee,” Viktor explained. 

“Well, we have those drinks, too,” Yuuri said, “if you, uh, ever want to stop by,” he added haphazardly.

“Oh, after your hospitality today I’m never going back to Starbucks,” Viktor said with a sincere smile. “That is, if your drinks are any good.” He winked, which made Yuuri blush. He no longer had the excuse of the cold for his red face.

“They’re good,” he insisted, voice a little higher than he would’ve liked, “you’ll just have to come and find out,” he added, hoping that sounded a little more confident. Viktor’s phone buzzed, and he looked at it, lips pressing into a thin line. 

“Weather alert for snow,” he commented, turning his screen towards Yuuri. The latter looked at his own phone, realizing he got the same notification, but his phone had been on silent since he had been driving. 

“Like, now?” Yuuri said, glancing at the sky through the car’s sunroof. It was indeed cloudy. 

“Soon, a couple of hours.” 

“Do you think you’ll have your car back by then?”

“No clue,” Viktor said.

“How far away is your rink?”

“Another thirty minutes,” he informed with a heavy sigh. “It’s fine, I don’t need to be there technically until eight. If the weather gets really bad, lessons will probably be cancelled.”

“Who even takes skating lessons on a Tuesday morning? Aren’t kids supposed to be in school?” 

“Winter break,” Viktor explained. “I’m going to make a call to the owner to see if we should just cancel them.” So he did, and Yuuri, being approximately three feet away, had no choice but to listen, though he couldn’t really hear the voice on the other end. It was definitely a man’s, though, the low tone audible.

“Hey Yakov,” Viktor greeted, “so funny story, my car broke down…. Yeah, I know, I saw the weather, too…. You think? I could get there if you- no…? Alright, only because you insist…. Yeah, no, I agree…. Okay, talk to you later.” He hung up. “No work today,” Viktor informed Yuuri. “Not that many kids were signed up anyway.”

“So when your car does get towed, do you need a ride back home?” Yuuri asked. Viktor seemed to take this into consideration. 

“Do I trust a complete stranger to take me to my home?” He pondered aloud, although it was clear he was joking, having gotten into a car with said stranger. Yuuri knew he trusted him. “Maybe it would be safer if I met a friend who could take me home.” Viktor said, proudly grinning as if he had just solved the cure for cancer. “But wherever will I meet them?”

“I can’t imagine,” Yuuri said, trying to play along. Viktor smiled, and Yuuri’s heart might’ve skipped a beat, but he ignored it. _Pay no mind to the attractive man sitting next to you_ , he told himself. Before he could speak again, Viktor was on the phone. 

“Good morning, Yuri,” he greeted in a singsong voice. Yuuri turned his head at the mention of his own name, but realized it must be the friend referenced earlier.

“Why are you calling this early!” The teen’s voice came through loud on the phone, and if Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d have thought it was on speaker. Viktor just smiled, though, seemingly used to this behavior. 

“I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a pickle, you see,” he began, “my car’s broken down and needs to be towed. Yakov’s cancelled lessons for today, so I just need to get home. Could you perhaps give me a ride?” The response couldn’t be heard this time by Yuuri, but it seemed by Viktor’s expression that he had agreed. “Great! Meet me in an hour at the Sunrise café. It’s on North Avenue…. Thank you, Yuri, I owe you one,” Viktor said, hanging up. 

The pair waited only a couple minutes until the car tow finally arrived. They took Viktor’s car away, exchanging information with him. Then, upon Viktor’s insistence, Yuuri drove them to the café, which was only a few minutes away. They entered the cozy building, a tall man with a ponytail behind the counter. 

“Sorry about that, Celestino,” Yuuri said with an apologetic smile, “got caught up with the towing company.”

“Don’t sweat it,” the man insisted, clapping a large hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Need me for anything else?”

“Nope, you’re good.”

“You gonna introduce me to your friend?” Celestino raised an eyebrow, eyeing Viktor. He began to take off his apron. 

“Oh, right,” Yuuri said, a little flustered, “this is Viktor. He’s the one whose car broke down. I met him about forty-five minutes ago,” he said. Viktor gave Celestino a friendly hello, the man giving Yuuri a knowing glance. Yuuri tried to insist with his eyes that it wasn’t what it looked like. 

“Well, you’re in charge,” the man said, handing the apron to Yuuri, who began to adjust the straps. Celestino was easily a head taller than him. “See you later. And nice to meet you, Viktor.” With that, he was out the door. 

“We missed the first rush,” Yuuri said, glancing at the clock, taking his place behind the counter. “What can I get you?” 

“Surprise me,” Viktor said with a wink. Yuuri suddenly felt as if he was under immense pressure. He nodded, nonetheless, and got to work. Viktor watched as Yuuri prepared the order, leaning on the counter with both his arms, one flat on the counter, the other bent and holding up his head. 

“Any allergies?” Yuuri asked, back to Viktor. 

“No,” he confirmed, gaining a nod from the barista as a response. A couple minutes later, Yuuri placed a drink on the counter in front of Viktor. Viktor looked up at Yuuri for a split second, but then observed the creation, taking the drink in his hand. “What is it?” he asked, inspecting the concoction. It was obviously a cold drink, but beyond that, he had no clue.

“I’m not telling you,” Yuuri said, suppressing a little smile. He watched as Viktor took a sip. Viktor’s eyebrows raised, and he blinked a few times, supposedly in surprise. 

“This is great,” he commented with a grin.

“Iced cinnamon latte with almond milk and whipped cream,” Yuuri said proudly, face flushing a little. He was quite satisfied that he had impressed Viktor the non-coffee drinker. Viktor took another sip through the straw (which he noted was not plastic, though he couldn’t exactly tell what it was). 

“Yeah, no, this is great,” he repeated. “I can hardly taste the coffee.”

“Well, that was the goal,” Yuuri said with a smile.

“How much?” Viktor said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet. 

“It’s on the house,” Yuuri said with a wave of the hand. 

“After everything you’ve done for me this morning, I should at least pay you,” Viktor insisted, finding his wallet in the third pocket he searched. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to pay you.”

“It’s fine, really!”

“At least let me leave a tip?” Viktor pleaded. Yuuri, while he was tempted to comply (who could say no to those (gorgeous) puppy dog eyes?), resisted. This resulted in Viktor attempting to shove a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, which Yuuri attempted to snatch away. That subsequently led to the tip jar being dropped on the floor, and shattering into a million pieces of glass. Both men then profusely apologized to one another. 

“It’s not your fault,” Yuuri said incredulously, fetching a broom and dustpan. 

“Well it isn’t yours either, I’m the one who insisted on giving you a tip.”

“And I’m the one who wouldn’t let you.” Yuuri began sweeping up the bits of glass, praying that no customer would arrive. Unfortunately, a young woman walked in, whom he recognized. He took her order at the front of the café, keeping her away from the counter, and handed it to her once he was done. “Sorry about that,” he said with a kind smile. The woman insisted it wasn’t a problem and pressed a couple dollars into Yuuri’s hand as a tip. Yuuri then realized that Viktor had swept up the remainder of the glass.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he sighed. 

“But I wanted to.” Viktor smiled and Yuuri couldn’t help but give in. He couldn’t be mad at that smile. 

“Okay,” he said, taking the dustpan and broom, dumping the remains of the jar into the garbage. Viktor placed the money on the counter, and defeated, Yuuri accepted the tip. Taking an empty large paper cup, he stuck the money inside, wrote the word “tips”, on it and placed it on the counter. “I’ll have to get a new one later,” he mumbled more to himself than his guest. “Would your friend who’s picking you up like anything?” Yuuri asked as Viktor continued enjoying his drink, triumphant in his victory of tipping.

“He’ll order something when he gets here, I think,” Viktor replied.

The two chatted until Viktor’s friend-- who was far more petite than Yuuri had expected-- arrived. Viktor greeted him with a big smile and a side-hug introducing him to Yuuri. 

“Yuuri, this is Yuri,” he grinned like it was the funniest thing in the world. The teen looked unamused, with his hoodie pulled over his shoulder-length blonde hair, mouth forming a flat line. 

“That’s confusing,” the younger Yuri mumbled. 

“Okay, then… you’re Yurio,” Viktor said with a smile. 

“Definitely not,” the teen spat, wrenching himself from Viktor’s grip. “I knew you first, why do I have to change my name?”

“Because I said so, plus, it suits you.” Viktor was all smiles, and Yuuri could tell it was all in good fun. Although the pair had an obvious large age gap, he could tell they had a close bond that involved a lot of teasing. They were like brothers, Yuuri decided, watching the two bicker. “Are you not going to get something to drink?” Viktor asked the newly dubbed Yurio.

“Of course I am, you made me get up this early, I’m going to need something to stay awake on the drive home.”

“You say that like we live an hour away,” Viktor teased, nudging Yurio. 

“I’ll have a hot latte,” Yurio demanded politely, ignoring Viktor’s comment. Yuuri was unsure how one could demand and be polite at the same time, but the angry teen somehow achieved that goal. Yuuri made the drink quietly, listening to Viktor and Yurio tease each other and argue. Yuuri placed the drink on the counter when he finished.

“Watch out, it’s hot,” he warned as Yurio took it. 

“I know,” Yurio said, taking a sip. _Apparently_ , Yuuri thought, _he’s fine with burning his tongue off._ The teen’s expression remained unchanged as he drank. “Not bad,” he said. Although his tone was still annoyed and tired, Yuuri took the compliment, assuming that’s just how Yurio typically acted. Yuuri thanked him with a polite smile.

“Viktor already paid for it,” Yuuri said before Yurio got the chance to pull out a wallet. Viktor shot him a look, and Yuuri gave him a look right back. Yurio stood awkwardly as he watched the silent exchange.

“Ready to go, Viktor? Because I don’t feel like driving in snow with my granddad's car,” Yurio said, breaking the quiet, leaning on the door to open it. Viktor nodded, discarding his own empty cup in the trash by the door.

“Oh, just one second,” he said, turning back to the counter and pulling an old receipt out of his pocket. “You have a pen?” He asked, approaching Yuuri, who handed him the sharpie they used to write names on the cups. Viktor thanked him, wrote something on the crumpled paper, and handed both the sharpie and the receipt to Yuuri. “See you later,” Viktor said with a kind smile, and he quickly turned and walked away, an agitated Yurio waiting at the door.

“See you,” Yuuri responded, perhaps a second too late to be considered normal. He was too busy staring at the phone number written on the receipt, followed by a scrawled message “Let’s be friends”. His face was beet red.

It certainly would not be the last time Viktor visited the café.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can be read as a oneshot, and was originally posted as such, but I have decided to continue the story. Thanks to all who commented suggestions for further story development and better titles!
> 
> *note: chapter edited slightly on 1/23/2021


	2. Chapter 2

“Give me a job.” Yuuri jumped a little, turning to the familiar voice. He had been so focused on making a drink for practice that he hadn’t even noticed that Yurio entered the shop. He tried not to let this show, though he would admit his acting skills weren’t that great. 

“Come again?” Yuuri asked politely, not having fully processed what the other had said.

“I want a job,” Yurio said, miffed. His fingers drummed on the counter, the nails painted with chipping black polish.

“We’re not hiring,” Yuuri apologized, “sorry.” Yurio gave him a look that told Yuuri he didn’t believe him. The dramatic teen huffed out an annoyed sigh. 

“It’s such a small place, you must need more staff. I mean, you’re the _manager_ and you had to open last week,” he tried reasoning.

“If you want to get up at that hour, be my guest. You won’t be able to work that early once school starts again, I assume,” Yuuri continued working on the drink.

“What, I can’t work after school?”

“We don’t need any more baristas at that hour.” Yurio rolled his eyes, but seemed unable to come up with anything else to challenge with. “Why do you want a job here, anyway? It doesn’t really seem your style,” Yuuri said, putting a lid on the drink. He took a sip, satisfied with his work. Sure, he preferred his coffee bitter, but appreciated the flavored stuff, too. 

“My parents think I should get a job just _because_. Like, for experience or whatever. This was the first thing I could think of,” he explained, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter.

“Well, we don’t really have any openings right now,” Yuuri said apologetically. The silence that followed weighed down the atmosphere with awkwardness, and Yuuri had no clue how to deal with the angsty teen he had met a grand total of one time.

“Any suggestions, then?” Yurio kept his arms folded over his chest like a petulant child, looking at the makeshift tip jar (it still hadn’t been replaced) rather than at Yuuri. 

“Library?”

“So coffee _isn’t_ my style, but books _are_?” Yurio actually laughed at this, not loud, but it was there, as was a rare smile.

“You asked for suggestions!” Yuuri protested, throwing his arms in the air. 

“Useless,” Yurio muttered. “I might as well get something while I’m here. You better let me pay this time,” he added pointedly. “Viktor told me about the whole tip thing.”

“His tip more than paid for your coffee,” Yuuri defended, sparing a glance at the paper cup. He really needed to get a replacement. “What can I get for you?”

“Matcha latte, iced,” Yurio said, searching his hoodie pockets for money. He pulled out a few crumpled bills, and began to sort through them. Yuuri started to work on his drink. 

“Matcha doesn’t seem like your style, either,” Yuuri commented. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t judge me at face value.” Yuuri glanced up from his work at this, the teen had his back leaned up on the counter, Yuuri couldn’t see his expression. The two stayed silent until Yuuri finished, placing the drink on the counter. “Thanks,” the teen muttered. 

“Three even,” Yuuri said. Yurio paid with cash, and started to walk away. “You really want to work here?” Yuuri asked hesitantly, hands balled up on the counter. 

“That’s why I asked, dumbass,” Yurio said, stopping in his tracks but not turning around. 

“If I’m going to be your manager, you can’t talk to me like that.” Yuuri gave a good-natured smile that the younger still couldn’t see. He was only half-kidding. Gaining no response, he tried again, “I’ll talk to the owner about it.” Yurio nodded silently at this, stayed still for a moment, then left. 

Yuuri wasn’t quite sure why he gave in, he had no obligation to the kid whom he hardly knew, and yet he felt compelled to give him a chance. He was going to need serious training on people skills if he was going to be employed there, though. Yuuri was already regretting his decision a little, thinking of the highschooler’s potty mouth and sour demeanor. Well, what’s done is done.

Later in the day, Yuuri received a text from Viktor, who he’d had a few short exchanges with since their first meeting. None of them lasted more than a few minutes, but Yuuri enjoyed their conversations all the same. He’d had to initiate the first text, since Viktor had given him his number and not the other way around (Yuuri could never have that confidence). It was slightly awkward, to say the least, but after some mental psyching-up, he had sent the first message. And really, he figured, it was nothing to freak out over. The (attractive) man just wanted to be friends, and had said so on the receipt Yuuri still had sitting on his nightstand at home. The two hadn’t quite kept up a daily correspondence, but when Viktor had made a crude excuse for a snowman in his yard, he sent Yuuri a picture (it had, in fact, snowed quite a bit that day his car broke down). When Yuuri had an interesting encounter with a customer, he told the short story to Viktor. When Viktor found out what was wrong with his car (the battery was indeed dead), he told Yuuri. They took turns initiating conversation, and this time, Viktor started. 

(Viktor) Hey I heard Yurio talked to u at work today. Thanks for considering him

(Viktor) Ik he can be kinda rude sometimes

(Yuuri) Yeah ofc!!

(Yuuri) Tho I don’t really know why he asked? It was a little weird tbh.

(Viktor) His parents want him to get a job ig, that’s what he told me

(Viktor) It’s probably because he doesn’t have a lot of friends at school 

(Viktor) Don’t tell him I told you that tho, he’ll decapitate me

(Yuuri) Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. 

(Yuuri) I wouldn’t want to face the wrath of an angsty teen either, trust me.

(Viktor) But srsly thanks, I think a job would be good for him? Ik u don’t know him (or me) that well so I appreciate it!

(Yuuri) No problem!!

The day after that, Yuuri walked into the café, and his coworker Phichit gave him a friendly wave from behind the counter while he helped a customer. 

“Sorry I’m late, anything I can do to help?” He asked the barista, who was jotting down an order. Yuuri realized that he was left-handed, something he hadn’t previously noticed.

“Yeah, make this, please,” he said, handing the order to Yuuri with a grateful smile. 

“You’d think you were a doctor with this handwriting,” he muttered, glancing at the paper. Phichit just rolled his eyes, before turning back to the counter to help the next customer. Once the small rush was over, Phichit let out a breath of relief. 

“Your coming late did not help,” he complained, giving Yuuri a disapproving look.

“First,” Yuuri stated, defensive, “I really don’t think the employee should be scolding the manager,” Yuuri shot a look right back at Phichit. “Second, I have a valid excuse. There was an accident on the way here so I had to take a _very_ inconvenient detour. Looked like it just happened, there were ambulances and everything.”

“What is it with people and their cars making you late for work?” Phichit said, raising a brow, as he began to restock some of the drink ingredients. Yuuri had relayed to him the saga of Viktor another day when they were on the same shift. When the café was empty, the two had nothing to do but chat, and Phichit could ramble for hours. Yuuri listened most of the time, but was able to tell his stories when he wanted to. While Yuuri always enjoyed their conversation, he would often suggest that Phichit do his homework for his university classes. A chronic procrastinator, Phichit would always protest, claiming that he would be distracted during his job and that it was not appropriate. Yuuri would fire back, arguing that using his phone and scrolling through social media was probably more distracting than his assignments. Their little jabs and teases always remained friendly, though, despite Yuuri supposedly having more authority. Sure, he might have already graduated college, making him a few years older, but Phichit was the employee he spoke the most to, and thus the one he was closest with. 

“The universe just has it out for me I guess,” Yuuri said, responding to Phichit’s comment and taking off the coat he realized he was still wearing. 

“Oh! Speaking of that,” Phichit went into the storage closet and came back out, a cardboard box in hand. “We had a little visitor earlier.” He held out the item to Yuuri, who took it carefully. There was a note attached to the top. It read: _No, you’re not allowed to pay me back for this. Consider it a thank you for helping me out._ The writing was loopy, like a half-cursive. There was no signature, but Yuuri knew it could only be from one person, the handwriting matching that of a different note he had. “I can only assume it’s from your new friend,” Phichit said as Yuuri opened the box. “You never gave me a description or name, though, so I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Gray hair but not an old guy?” Yuuri offered. 

“Yep!”

“Must’ve been Viktor, then,” Yuuri smiled down at the gift in his grasp. It was a glass jar, the word “tips” printed on a little plaque glued to the jar in charcoal letters with a blue background. “Did he say anything to you?” Yuuri asked, walking around to the front of the counter to replace the makeshift tip cup. 

“He asked for you by name and when I told him you weren’t working he just said to give it to you,” Phichit recalled. “He didn’t introduce himself, but he seemed pretty nice. Chatty. He asked what my favorite sugary drink was and ordered that.”

“Yeah, makes sense, he doesn’t really like coffee,” Yuuri said, transferring the tip money to the new jar. He threw out the paper cup when he finished, glad to be rid of it. “I’ll have to text him a thanks later. It would be unprofessional of me to _use my phone at work_ ,” Yuuri commented. Phichit glanced up from his screen, guilt written all over his face. He wasn’t even trying to be secretive about it, leaning on the counter with his arm outstretched in front of him. He shut off his cellphone and put it in the front pocket of his pants with a nervous grin. Yuuri rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “If you go the rest of your shift without looking at it, I’ll make you a free drink,” he challenged.

“I could just make myself a free drink if I wanted to,” Phichit rebutted, “up the reward.”

“Uh… I’ll help you with that essay you keep complaining about?”

“I don’t see how doing homework at work is a _reward_ , plus, I don’t really feel like getting my work criticized by a former English major.” Yuuri shook his head in disapproval. “Try again.”

“What if… I buy dinner for you, like, a platonic date,” Yuuri offered. Bingo! Phichit’s face lit up.

“Now _that’s_ how you appeal to a college student.”

Phichit ended up surviving the remainder of his shift without checking his phone, although Yuuri could see him physically resisting the whole time. It buzzed more than once in his pocket, and each time it did Yuuri shot him a look that dared him to do it. Phichit held out, though, winning his dinner fair and square. They arranged it for the following evening, and as soon as the door was locked, the barista grabbed his phone to catch up on all that he had missed. Yuuri bid him farewell as he nearly forgot to open the door, eyes glued to his screen. 

“Don’t text and drive,” Yuuri called to the student, who smiled in response, wordlessly promising not to. He stayed a few minutes longer to wrap up, shutting everything down properly for the evening. Locking the back door behind him, Yuuri made his way to his car, checking his own phone for the first time in a few hours. Unsurprised by the lack of notifications, he remembered the new tip jar sitting on the counter in the store and its donor.

(Yuuri) You didn’t have to do that.

(Yuuri) Thank you tho!!

(Viktor) I wanted to do it, so I did

(Yuuri) It was totally unnecessary!!

(Yuuri) And I will definitely find a way to pay you back.

(Viktor) Yea I’m not letting u do that

(Viktor) Unless u want me to break another jar

(Yuuri) It wasn’t your fault but that’s besides the point.

(Viktor) Debatable but I’ll let it go for now

(Viktor) Sad u weren’t there today tho

(Yuuri) Well if I had been I wouldn’t have accepted the gift so that works out for you in that sense ig.

(Viktor) When do u work anyway? Don’t wanna miss u again

(Yuuri) I work every day but Sunday. 

(Yuuri) But the time of the day changes from week to week.

(Yuuri) I’m on tomorrow morning for opening, and Friday for closing. I’m on at closing more than opening but it varies like I said.

(Viktor) Not the middle of the day ever?

(Yuuri) That’s usually when the owner is on, while his daughter is at school.

(Viktor) Gotcha

(Viktor) That’s when I work anyway so it works out

(Viktor) I’ll see u soon then ;)

(Yuuri) Looking forward to it!! 

Yuuri put his phone on silent, tossing it into the backseat of his car, starting his engine. The clock on the dash told him what he already knew: it was past ten o’clock. Usually, he’d turn on the radio, listen to music or the news, but he wasn’t really in the mood. News was always depressing, especially as of late, and he didn’t feel like listening to shitty pop music. So, driving on mostly empty roads, Yuuri allowed himself to enjoy the silence. He would return to his empty, small apartment, eat a snack, stay up on his phone for a few hours, and then convince himself to go to sleep. Mundane, but he convinced himself that he liked it. Maybe the café gig wasn’t forever, but it was stable for the moment and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed getting free coffee most days. Sure, it felt a bit odd working with people who were for the most part younger than him, but that’s why he was the manager, right? This resulted in most of his friends and acquaintances being younger than him, but there were one or two customers he has spoken enough with to consider friends, or at least “friendly”. 

He arrived at his apartment building, climbing the four stories because the elevator was broken. It had been broken since he moved in a few years prior. He opened the door to the dark and empty apartment, flicking on the light. He did exactly as he predicted on his ride home, with the addition of calling his mom, which he did weekly. They spoke in japanese. Afterwards, he laid in bed, staring out at a blurry, cloudy sky, his glasses sitting on the dresser next to him, which acted as a bedside table. He had buried himself under layers of blankets in a fetal position. Living in the old building meant subpar heating, and Yuuri, who hated the cold, absolutely despised winter nights. He kept telling himself he’d invest in a space heater, but never actually took the initiative to do so, procrastination just as bad as when he was a student. His mother kept threatening to send a heated blanket to his home as a gift, but Yuuri always insisted he was fine, not wanting her to spend unnecessary money on it. No, he’d much rather snuggle up under a pile of blankets wearing a hoodie that was purposefully bought a size too big. Eventually, Yuuri was lulled to sleep, thoughts drifting into dreams he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to continue! While I know this chapter isn't nearly as long or interesting as the first, I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing with the story. Thanks to all those who commented on the first one :)


	3. Chapter 3

“What… what are you doing?” Yuuri, with an unsweetened, uncreamed coffee in hand, had come to open the café on a chilly Thursday morning to find Viktor leaning against the front of the building. He gave Yuuri a smile as a greeting, moving away from the wall.

“Waiting for you to open,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“You could’ve waited in your car or something.” Yuuri stared at the other man incredulously, his own cold hands shoved in his coat pockets, messy hair covered by a winter hat. Viktor’s smile slipped, and he blinked. 

“I suppose I could have,” he said, putting a hand on his chin, fingers curled except for his index finger, which rested on his lips, “that would’ve made a lot more sense, come to think of it.”

“It’s freezing, I don’t know how you do it,” Yuuri said, fumbling for the keys with numb fingers. Yeah, Viktor had gloves and a scarf on, but they were obviously more for fashion than function, both being made of thin material. The man had pianist’s hands, Yuuri observed, with long, thin fingers. It was a wonder that his hands weren’t freezing off, and even more so that he seemed completely unbothered by the easily below freezing temperatures of New York. 

“I’m from Russia,” he explained. Yuuri unlocked the door, speed-walking to get behind the counter to flick on the lights and turn on the machines. That made sense, Yuuri figured, having noticed Viktor’s slight accent before. He never liked to comment about those things, knowing full well he had an accent of his own. “And I work on the ice all day,” Viktor added after a moment of thinking.

“Yeah well you can still get hypothermia or frostbite, doesn’t matter how used to it you are,” Yuuri remarked. “Are you skating this morning again? It’s pretty early,” Yuuri took off his coat and hat as he spoke. The warmth of the shop was already settling into his chilled body, the travel mug now placed on the counter being his only source of heat up until that point. He ran fingers through his dark hair, he really should’ve showered before leaving. He gave up on trying to make it look presentable, defeated by a combination of hat head and bed head.

“Yeah, I’m an early riser, anyway” Yuuri wiped his glasses on his shirt, and looked up at a blurry Viktor as he spoke. “I don’t like sleeping in that much. I have a dog, anyways, so there’s that.”

“I’m not a morning person, but I guess I’m here now,” he said, putting his glasses back on, realizing his shirt hadn’t been the right material and the smudges only got worse. “Also, you’ll have to send me pictures of your dog later. Anyway, what do you want to drink?” Yuuri now had his back to his customer, washing his hands. 

“Surprise me,” Viktor said with a sweet smile “you haven’t disappointed me thus far.” Yuuri nodded, giving a small smile of his own, putting on an apron and getting to work. His face was a bit pink from the unsolicited compliment. “I see you’ve made use of my gift,” Viktor remarked, gestured to the jar sitting on the counter. He was grinning, obviously very proud of himself for the accomplishment.

“Yes, and thank you, again, really” Yuuri said genuinely, only glancing up for a second to lock eyes with Viktor and convey his appreciation. He diverted his gaze to continue making the drink. “You really didn’t have to do that at all, seriously. And I promise I won’t break this one.”

“If you let me tip you, that won’t happen.” Yuuri didn’t have to look up to know Viktor was smirking, he could hear it in his tone. “And it was not your fault.”

“You can tip me, it just has to be a reasonable amount.” Yuuri avoided the topic of blame on purpose, knowing that Viktor would politely insist it was his own fault and the two would go in circles. Yuuri was far too tired to get into an argument, no matter how lighthearted and friendly, as he had only taken a few sips of his coffee. 

“My tip amount last time was reasonable for what you did for me,” Viktor defended. Okay. So they were going to get into a debate about this.

“I-it was nothing, really,” Yuuri assured, not wanting Viktor to think he had inconvenienced him. It was Yuuri’s choice to pull over and help in the first place, so everything that followed was on him, right? “Plus, you have no grand gestures to reward this time.”

“I beg to differ.” Viktor was already pulling out his wallet. “You’re potentially giving my friend a job.” Yuuri internally cursed at himself, he had to stop doing nice things that Viktor could tip him for. First world problems.

“Yeah, _potentially_ ,” Yuuri emphasized, though if he was interviewing the kid, he was almost definitely going to employ him. “I’m really not sure that really merits a generous tip, regardless.”

“You’re too humble for your own good,” Viktor said with a sigh. Yuuri didn’t know how to take the compliment, and was thankful Viktor continued speaking. “Plus, talking to Yuri in general should be rewarded.” Yuuri didn’t reply, because while he agreed, he didn’t know if it was his place to comment on the teen’s attitude. The teasing seemed to be a strictly Yuri-Viktor thing, as he assumed the pair had known each other for a long time. “How much do I owe you? For the drink?”

“Two,” Yuuri replied, putting on the finishing touches, then a lid.

“That’s not a lot,” Viktor said skeptically, taking the coffee and handing a couple of bills over to Yuuri. He took a sip, “doesn’t _taste_ like two dollar coffee.”

“Well,” Yuuri stared at the register, rather than Viktor “for you an iced caramel macchiato is two dollars.” Viktor raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go, his jaw set when he noticed Yuuri’s averted gaze. He let Yuuri have this one kind gesture without protest.

For once, Viktor didn’t know how to carry on the conversation. Usually, he’d be able to come up with a topic in the blink of an eye. He was used to chatting with people in highschool or college, and with children and their parents at the rink more recently. It certainly wasn’t that he wasn’t accustomed to kind gestures; people were overly nice to him all the time, he knew his looks got him special privileges. Yuuri was a bit different, though, less forward. It was endearing and refreshing, Viktor decided. Most people he knew were somewhat boisterous and dramatic, a bit like himself. In contrast, Yuuri was reserved yet friendly and sweet. It was a nice change of pace.

“What’s your favorite drink that isn’t straight black coffee?” The question wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t basic. Yuuri seemed to think on this for a moment, relaxing and leaning forward on the counter. 

“That’s a good question, I’ve made and drank so many,” he pondered aloud, fisted hand over his mouth in thought.

“How long have you worked here, anyway?” 

“I graduated… what? Three years ago in May? So a bit more than two years, then?” Yuuri was counting on his fingers as if it would help. “I can’t imagine how many different drinks I’ve tried in the past two-ish years,” he mumbled. Then, “Did you go to college?”

“Yeah, it’s been a little while, though, if you couldn’t tell by my grays.” Yuuri smirked at the joke, fingers drumming on the countertop absentmindedly. 

“How long ago, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Okay, I’m not _that_ old. Don’t act like you’re asking an older woman her age,” Viktor teased, Yuuri straightened up at that, unsure of how much he was actually joking. “I think it’s been… damn, it seems so long now. Seven years? Yeah, that sounds about right.” _He’s older than I expected_ , Yuuri thought to himself, though he didn’t dare say it out loud after the age comment. Another silence befell the pair as Yuuri began to clean the surfaces in the café. Methodically, he sprayed each table and wiped them down. The counter, the doorknobs, backs of chairs, anything that hands could touch, really. 

“You never answered my coffee question,” Viktor pointed out. 

“I don’t really have an answer,” Yuuri replied, “I know that’s kind of lame, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor said. He was slightly disappointed that Yuuri didn’t have an interesting response, but he wasn’t going to hold it against the seemingly tired barista. He checked his watch. “I think I’m going to go now,” he announced. Yuuri hummed in response, his back to Viktor, still sanitizing tabletops. Viktor took the opportunity to shove some money into the tip jar, a mischievous grin on his face as he did so. As Yuuri turned around, Viktor strategically and not suspiciously at all placed himself in front of the jar on the counter, blocking it from view. “I have a long day of lessons, especially reschedules from last week,” he added to his earlier comment.

“What exactly do you teach?” Yuuri inquired as Viktor made his way towards the door. 

“Well I am one of two instructors, so I teach pretty much everything. It’s mostly younger kids, just basic figure skating. Trust me, they’re not doing any quads-- that’s a skating jump,” he clarified. Yuuri knew what quads were, but decided not to interject. “By the time any of them get old enough to compete they either give up to focus on school or move on to a more professional coach.”

“Nice,” Yuuri said, nodding. “Now go! I don’t want to take up any more of your personal skating time.” He was shooing Viktor out the door with his waving hand. Viktor remained unmoving for a moment.

“Oh, I don’t mind chatting with you, Yuuri. I have all day to skate,” Viktor said with a soft smile, leaning on the door with his back to open it. Undeterred by the cold wind that blew behind him, Viktor stepped out into the frigid morning air, his drink in an ungloved hand. “Thanks, Yuuri, see you soon!” The door shut and the silver-haired man was gone. Yuuri returned to his place at the counter, smiling at himself. He didn’t mind talking to Viktor, either, he had found.

Putting away the sanitizing spray he had been using, he noticed the ten dollar bill in the glass jar. He entertained the thought of texting Viktor to scold him, but decided against it when he saw the only other car in the parking lot pull away. _No need to distract him while he’s driving_ , he figured, _he’ll just have to come back another time so I can somehow repay him._

~~~

The week wore on, Yuuri working another few days until Sunday, his day off. That Monday he interviewed Yuri Plisetsky, who he now knew was sixteen and living with his grandfather as his legal guardian. He gave the teen the job, which he probably would have done no matter how the interview went, too nice for his own good. But no, Yuri deserved the job. He was a decent student in school, a seemingly dedicated worker, and although his social skills could use some improvement, that’s what customer service experience is for, right?

“You’ll have to wear your hair up when working, though,” Yuuri explained, “company protocol.”

“I can never get it fully tied up, can I just do a half-up thingy?” Yuri demonstrated, sloppily pulling his hair back from his eyes and holding it with his hand.

“That should work fine. As long as it’s out of your face.” Yuuri also informed him that the dress code was all-black (not that he thought he would have any trouble with that). Yuri would be starting later in the week, taking mostly afternoon and evening shifts. “You are going to have to keep in mind that this is a very social job. You have to talk to customers politely, even if they get on your nerves-- and they _will_ ,” he warned. 

“Gotcha,” Yuri said with a nod, picking up the implication. He flashed a fake customer service smile at Yuuri. 

“You want your name tag to be ‘Yuri’, correct? One ‘u’?”

“Yeah, though Viktor hasn’t stopped calling me by that dumb nickname since we were here.” 

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, writing down a reminder for himself to make the nametag.

“Yeah, thanks for that. I’ll just have to come up with an equally stupid name for him,” he said with a shrug.

“I have a feeling he wouldn’t care that much,” Yuuri commented. Viktor would probably fawn over receiving a nickname from the teen he assumed to be somewhat of a brother to him.

“Can I go now?” Yuri was glancing at his phone, which had lit up with a notification and thus allowed him to check the time.

“Yeah, just let me just get your number so I can text you your schedule,” Yuuri said. So the two exchanged numbers, Yuuri gave him a free drink as congratulations, and Yuri left with a small wave, twirling his car keys on his fingers. He was worse than Viktor, wearing only a hoodie on a cloudy, dry January afternoon.

(Viktor) Yurio says thanks for the job

(Yuuri) He could’ve said that to me himself, or texted that to me, so I’m assuming he didn’t actually say that.

(Viktor) Ok so I’m saying thanks on his behalf then

(Yuuri) Not the same but you’re welcome.

(Viktor) Makkachin says thanks too!

(Viktor) _sent an image_

The photo was of Viktor and a large, brown poodle. Yuuri recalled asking Viktor to send him dog pictures, and smiled to himself. The dog had a big, sloppy tongue hanging out of its mouth, paws slung over Viktor’s arm. Viktor appeared to be sitting behind the dog, his face partially obscured by a fluffy head of fur. He was grinning wide, seemingly mid-laugh. The photo was a little bit blurry, and Yuuri assumed that shortly after the selfie was taken, the dog knocked its owner over.

(Yuuri) Awww that’s so cute! 

(Viktor) Me or the dog?

(Viktor) Either way, thanks :)

(Yuuri) Haha very funny.

(Yuuri) Girl or boy?

(Viktor) Me or the dog?

(Viktor) _Sent an image_

This one was of a young Viktor, his hair still silver, but very long. It was pulled back into a ponytail, and he seemed to be at the beach under an umbrella. This was a selfie, too.

(Viktor) Makka is a girl

(Yuuri) Wow you used to have long hair??

(Yuuri) What made you cut it??

(Viktor) Wanted to shake things up

(Viktor) And it was very inconvenient, got in the way all the time

(Viktor) I still find hair ties sometimes… a reminder of my old life… 

(Viktor) I always got mistaken for a girl

(Yuuri) How old were you??

(Viktor) High school to mid college I had long hair

(Yuuri) I never did anything drastic like that. The biggest change I ever do with my hair is slick it back, but that’s only for like fancy occasions.

(Viktor) Well if I had to send a pic of my old look u better send me one with ur hair slicked back!

(Yuuri) Fine, fine!!

(Yuuri) _sent an image_

Viktor couldn’t tell the event Yuuri was at, some sort of wedding, perhaps? But Yuuri was without glasses and his hair was slicked back, as promised. He wore a simple suit and a sheepish smile, standing next to someone he could only assume was his mother. She was a short, stout asian woman with a large grin on her face. 

(Viktor) Ooooh fancy

(Viktor) Looks good 

(Yuuri) Yeah, like I said I only do it for events and stuff, it’s kind of annoying.

(Yuuri) I hate putting product in my hair.

(Viktor) U would hate my hair routine then, it’s complicated

(Yuuri) Hair routine?? Your hair looks effortless tho.

(Viktor) Oh u have no idea. Yurio makes fun of me for it all the time.

(Yuuri) Well whatever you do works, you have nice hair

(Viktor) Thank u, I know ;)

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be texting at work, Mr. Manager,” Phichit teased, waltzing into the cafe a few minutes early ahead of his shift. 

“Yeah, yeah, shush. For all _you_ know, I could be doing work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the saga continues!! I have no idea where this is going tbh, but I like writing it and I hope y'all like reading it.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri took Phichit out for their promised platonic dinner date, though with how they acted around each other, the waiter was pretty convinced they were an actual couple. Phichit had been around at the café nearly as long as Yuuri, and the two often worked together. Laughing particularly loudly at some joke Phichit just made, the waiter came to the table to take their order. The man in the apron smiled as he watched the pair calm down, large grins on their faces. Yuuri was stuck between two entree options and randomly picked one once Phichit had placed his own order. Soon after, Yuuri’s phone buzzed with a notification, and he glanced at the screen. It was another Makkachin picture from Viktor, which made him smile. This time the poodle was rolling in some snow, the white powdery flakes stuck to his fur. It appeared that Viktor had dressed the dog up in a little coat and boots to keep him warm. 

After expressing his adoration and love for the dog he never met, Yuuri had consistently received photos of Makkachin from Viktor. Their correspondences still weren’t daily, but over the course of a week he had become accustomed to his phone vibrating and expecting the happy brown poodle to appear on his screen, and it was a bonus if Viktor was included in the photo, as well. 

“You know, using your phone at dinner is rude,” Phichit chided, tone oozing with sarcasm. Both were well aware of the circumstances that landed them at this booth after their shift together.

“This is different,” Yuuri defended, placing his phone on the table to show he had self-control. “One, we’re not eating yet, two, it was literally five seconds, and three, at least I’m not at my place of work.” Phichit rolled his eyes in response, accepting Yuuri’s argument.

“Well who is taking away our quality dinner time together, anyway? You don’t text a lot, and I kind of doubt it’s work-related.”

“Viktor,” he said, showing the picture of the poodle. “His dog is cute.”

“Aww,” Phichit cooed, taking the phone from Yuuri’s grasp, which he did not expect nor like. “She’s adorable!”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed with a smile, calmly retrieving his stolen phone from his excited friend. Their drinks came, Yuuri having ordered just water and Phichit a lemonade. Seeing each other outside of work wasn’t unnatural for the pair, as they had gone out to dinner after shifts multiple times. Although, this was the first time it was a result of the bet, and as such, the check was not being split. Yuuri just hoped that Phichit hadn’t opted for the most expensive entree.

“Do you text Viktor a lot?” Phichit asked, sipping his drink through the plastic straw provided, head resting on his hand.

“Not a lot, only sometimes. It’s just random stuff like this,” he explained, gesturing to his phone which was still lit up with the photo of Makkachin. “Speaking of, let me respond real quick.” Yuuri did as he said, typing a quick “ _Aww so cute,_ ” and pressing send. Then, he placed the phone on the seat next to him, determined to give his coworker his full attention. 

“It’s nice to see you have a friend other than me,” Phichit remarked, still on the topic of Viktor.

“I have other friends! I just don’t like to text people a lot, it’s not my thing,” Yuuri defended, pouting. Phichit was smirking.

“Well maybe you should text them as often as you text Viktor.”

“It’s not always me,” Yuuri reasoned, “he initiates just as often as I do, so I really don’t text him _that_ often on my own. I don’t text my other friends because they don’t really initiate first.”

“Well maybe they’re waiting for you to initiate,” Phichit said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Yuuri figured he was most likely right. Still, he retorted.

“Easy for you to say! A bet about using your phone is why we’re here in the first place.”

“I’m just saying!” Phichit raised his hands in defense, letting them drop onto his thighs dramatically a moment later. Yuuri was now glancing at his phone, maybe he should shoot a few texts to people, just to see how they were doing. The friends he referenced, though, were mostly from college or home, and no longer lived in the same area as him. Bored at the silence, Phichit changed the subject. “How’s the new guy, anyway? He’s Yuri, too, right?” 

“Yeah, he’s okay. A bit quiet around customers, which is surprising, actually,” he recalled. “Around Viktor and Viktor’s friends he’s quite outspoken and… well, frankly he’s rude. But when put on the spot he’s soft-spoken. It’s a bit jarring, actually”

“Probably just nervous,” Phichit said, leaning back in his seat. 

“It’s just weird to see him cursing and yelling at one moment and then mumble his way through orders the next. He’s fine when it’s just me or Viktor or someone he knows, I think. You’re right, though, he’s probably nervous” Yuuri said.

“I’d better be put on a shift with him soon, I need to scope him out.”

“You just want to talk his ear off.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Phichit deadpanned. 

“I guess it’s not,” Yuuri reasoned, “it might help him get more comfortable. As long as you’re not too much.”

“Me? Too much? I could _never_.” 

Yuuri observed as waiters clad in black and white bustled in and out of the kitchen, navigating the dimly lit room with such precision you’d think they had memorized a map with all the nooks and crannies of each and every square inch. One tired waitress was dealing with a woman with graying hair and an unamused expression. The waitress, a short woman with blonde hair dyed orange at the tips, patiently listened as this lady yelled at her, basically sputtering saliva in her face. The waitress apologized softly, trying to not cause a scene, but, well, Phichit and Yuuri were not the only ones whose attention had been grabbed by the situation.

“Customer service sucks sometimes,” Yuuri mumbled, forcing himself to look away, focusing on his friend again.

“Agreed. The other day this one guy dropped his drink, like, _way_ after I handed it to him, so it wasn’t my fault. He had already drank more than half of it, but he demanded that I make him a new one for free. It was ridiculous.”

Eventually their food arrived, they ate while chatting, Phichit going on about some gossip from one of his friends at school, and Yuuri satisfied with eating his meal and listening. Phichit’s life outside the café would make for a great sit-com, Yuuri had decided long ago, and perhaps it would help Phichit become the director he aspired to be one day. 

“Well that’s what you get when all your friends are film and theatre majors,” Yuuri had remarked once when Phichit was complaining about the constant drama. Yuuri knew he secretly liked it though, it was quite entertaining and nothing too serious ever happened. Perhaps someone made a snide comment out of context, or a love triangle was in operation, little stuff like that. Either way, it made for pretty entertaining stories for Yuuri to listen to and Phichit to drone on about for hours.

~~~

“It’s rude to use your phone at the table,” Yuri grumbled, glaring daggers at Viktor across from him. Yuri himself had his phone in an outstretched hand in front of him, arm resting on the table.

“My house, my rules, Yurio,” Viktor said in a sing-songy voice, smiling innocently. 

“That’s _not_ my name, and I also wouldn’t really call it a house, but whatever,” Yuri countered.

“Fine, _apartment_. Happy now, Yurio?” He placed emphasis on the name, drawing it out.

“Only if you stop calling me by that ridiculous name.”

“But it’s cute, Yurio!” Viktor’s grin was sickeningly sweet. One hand held his phone, the other chopsticks with sushi clamped between them. The sushi was falling apart though, and the chopsticks slid so the roll plopped on the table in a mess of rice, vegetables and fish. 

“That’s what you get for calling me that,” Yuri said with a smirk as Viktor picked at the mangled food with the chopsticks in vain. Eventually just picking it all up with a napkin and shoving it in his mouth. “Why do you even keep up with the nickname when Katsuki isn’t around?” 

“Because I like it,” Viktor said, mouth half-full, “the name,” he clarified.

“What about me? I hate it? Katsuki doesn’t call me that.” It was weird enough having another Yuri around, and even weirder that they had called each other by what sounded like their own names. Eventually, Yuri just asked if he could call his manager “Katsuki” instead, and Yuuri agreed, expressing that he didn’t mind as long as it made Yuri more comfortable.

“Ah, he’s too polite,” Viktor said dismissively with a wave of his chopsticks. Luckily, this time, they were not holding any food. Yuri sighed, somewhat defeated, though he’d never stop arguing against the name. It sounded stupid. He glanced down at his own food, ramen housed in a styrofoam container. This was a tradition of theirs, getting take out from this one really good asian restaurant every other week. Neither could remember how it started, it was something their families used to do together, but as schedules changed and the families drifted apart, the two boys were the only ones left who upheld it. Viktor’s parents had moved away sometime after Viktor started college, anyway, so it wasn’t like his family was really around to have dinner.

“What’re you so obsessed with on your phone, anyway,” Yuri said, watching as Viktor stared at his screen while chewing.

“I’m sending pictures of Makka to Yuuri,” Viktor replied cheerfully. “Actually, help me decide. Which one is better?” He slid his phone across the table, instructing Yuri to swipe right to see the other option. One was of the big brown poodle carrying a stick proudly, with her little jacket and boots on, prancing in the snow. The other was of her rolling in the snow with the same outfit. 

“Neither are as good as any of my pics of Potya, but the second one is cute, I guess,” Yuri said, pushing the phone back in Viktor’s direction. 

“We can get into a whole debate on Makka versus Potya but I honestly do not feel like doing that right now, so I’m going to ignore the first part of your comment and thank you for your advice.” 

“I’m just saying, objectively, Potya is a more-”

“Nope. Not doing that now, at least not at dinner,” Viktor remarked, shaking his head as he tapped away at his phone. “Send your own picture of the demon if you want to.” 

“Maybe I will,” Yuri replied adamantly, now intently searching for photos of his gorgeous kitty. He found one he absolutely adored, the one set as his phone wallpaper. Potya, a white cat with a black face, tail and limbs, was photographed curled up on Yuri’s bed, eyes shut. She looked like she was smiling in her slumber. Viktor was wary of the creature, though, because when she wasn’t sleeping, she wasn’t very friendly to him. He could still remember the stinging claw marks the kitten had left on his shoulder. Makkachin would never hurt him or anyone else like that cat had.

“Are you actually sending him a picture of Potya?” Viktor said, glancing at Yuri’s screen. Both their meals had been abandoned at this point, the debate inevitable.

“Yeah, to prove that she’s better than your slobbery dog.”

“I have a feeling Yuuri is more of a dog person, Yurio.”

“Not my name,” he said pointedly, “and how do you know? I think I’ve actually spent more time with him seeing as we work together and all.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you have the same connection with him. That’s strictly professional.”

“I disagree, Viktor, and I think I’m gonna prove you wrong.” 

~~~

Phichit was becoming convinced Yuuri’s phone was broken, as it buzzed approximately every ten seconds in the backseat of his car. Never before had so many notifications come to the phone at once, and both boys knew this. Yuuri tried to ignore it as he drove, having not allowed Phichit to walk to his dormitory in the cold. The phone buzzed again after a short lull.

“Do you want me to…?” Phichit asked, just as curious as the phone’s owner.

“Leave it. I don’t know what’s going on but I probably just got put in a group chat or something.” The two stayed silent as they listened to the phone continue buzzing for another few seconds. “Okay, yeah, look. Just to make sure it isn’t an emergency.” Phichit followed his instructions, retrieving the phone. The screen lit up with yet another notification.

“Vitktor sent an image… Yuri sent an image… Viktor sent an image… Yuri, Viktor, Yuri, Viktor… wow, they must really like you.”

“Yuri’s sending pictures?” Yuuri questioned, keeping his eyes focused on the road. Viktor had sent multiple pictures of the dog before, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary (though he had never received this many texts at once), but Yuri never texted him. It would only be another minute before they reached their destination and he could look at the messages himself. Until then, though, he forced himself not to glance over at his phone’s screen.

“Yeah, his pictures seem to be of a cat. Does he have one?”

“He never mentioned it but I never asked, I guess,” Yuuri replied. He pulled over in front of Phichit’s dorm building, snatching his phone almost immediately after putting the car in park. First was another picture of Makkachin in the snow from Viktor, then a picture of a black and white cat curled up on a bed from Yuri. Then, another picture of the poodle, belly-up on the floor, dozing, from Viktor, and another picture of the black and white cat from Yuri followed by the message _“what do you think of my potya?”_. Back and forth the two had (separately, not in a group chat) spammed Yuuri with photos of their pets, one more sent while Yuuri was scrolling through a typhoon of Makkachin and Potya. “They’re just… both sending me pictures of their pets? I think the cat is Yuri’s and is named Potya? They must be together, this isn’t a coincidence,” Yuuri explained to Phichit, whose eyes were on Yuuri’s screen. 

“As much as this seems like juicy stuff, I do have homework to do,” Phichit was now looking at his own phone, presumably checking the time. “So, I’m gonna go, and you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is all about next time we work together.” Yuuri nodded, bidding his friend farewell. Phichit left, shutting the car door behind him. Sighing, Yuuri turned his engine off, clicking on Viktor’s contact to call him. He hadn’t called him before, so part of Yuuri was a little anxious, but his curiosity was stronger, and he clicked the button to make the call. It was picked up almost immediately. 

“Hey Viktor,” he greeted, watching Phichit swipe a card to enter the building, turning to shoot Yuuri a thumbs up, which he returned, “what’s going on with all the pet pictures?” 

“Yurio and I-” Yuuri heard some shuffling and a familiar voice yelling. 

“Not my name!”

“We were debating which of our pets you’d like more,” Viktor continued, ignoring the protestations Yuuri could hear in the background. 

“Is Yuri there, too? Just put it on speakerphone, I don’t want to exclude him.”

“You’re too nice, Yuuri,” Viktor said, and Yuuri could hear the teasing smile in his tone. It was obvious when the phone was switched to speaker, Yuri’s voice suddenly clear. 

“ _Objectively_ cats are just better pets! They’re low-maintenance, self-sufficient and they can be really affectionate! Potya _especially_!”

“They’re better if you’re lazy and boring,” Viktor rebutted, “dogs actually love you and don’t try to scratch you everytime you pet them!”

“Potya probably scratches you because you suck, she’s smart like that. She’s _never_ scratched me,” Yuri responded adamantly. “All Makka does is slobber all over and jump on top of me.”

“That’s her way of saying ‘I love you’ because dogs love unconditionally!”

“You’re _that_ desperate for love?” Yuri teased, his laugh loud and clear through Yuuri’s phone.

“Hey, uh, I hate to interrupt, but I’m still here,” Yuuri said into the microphone.

“Right,” Yuri said, more shuffling could be heard, “so what do _you_ think? To me, you seem like a cat guy. Quiet, reserved, independent.” 

“But _I_ thought you’d be more a dog person given how friendly and sweet you are,” Viktor argued. Yuuri smiled at the compliments. “So, what is it?” He hesitated for a moment, the silence thick with tension despite the conversation happening over the phone.

“I… I can tell this is a point of contention between you two,” he began. “And, well, I _like_ both….”

“Not an answer,” Yuri growled. 

“Okay okay!” Yuuri said, “I’m a dog person, alright?” He could hear subsequent cheering and angry yelling, both in Russian. Unsure of how to respond to this, he just continued with his reasoning, “I mean, dogs are more compassionate and excitable, I guess. They love you a lot. Not to say that cats don’t! They’re, uh, they’re just a bit more standoffish than dogs? Not as immediately friendly. You have to earn their trust and that’s a lot of work, I guess. Plus, their claws scare me.”

“I knew it, _I knew it_!” Viktor shouted triumphantly. “I knew you weren’t a cold-hearted fiend.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say _that_ about cat-lovers, but-”

“You’re idiots! The both of you! Fucking idiots!”

“Language, Yurio,” Viktor mock-scolded like an angry mother. 

“If you call me that fucking name one more time, asshole!” Yuri threatened. 

“Well I’m just going to leave you two to your… uh, whatever you call this,” Yuuri said tentatively. “See you at work, Yuri,” he added quickly. 

“What about me?” Viktor whined playfully. 

“That’s up to you Viktor, you’re always welcome at the café,” Yuuri replied, smiling despite no one being around to see it.

“We’ll see you later, then,” Viktor replied, with Yuri speaking unintelligible Russian in the background. A dog’s barking could be heard, followed by a few thumps. 

“Bye,” Yuuri said, chuckling and hanging up. He started the gas again. He would have to tell Phichit about this the next time they worked together as promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the age old cats versus dogs debate. Personally, I like both, but see myself having a cat in the future.


	5. Chapter 5

“You should come to the rink sometime, Yuuri.” The suggestion came out of the blue as Viktor watched Yuuri prepare his mystery drink. It had become customary that when Yuuri asked for his order he simply responded with a “surprise me” accompanied by a smile. 

“Oh, really?” Yuuri’s back was to Viktor as he poured some unknown liquid into the plastic cup. “I thought you did lessons? I’m twenty-five, if you couldn’t tell.”

“You can come during a break,” Viktor offered, leaning over the counter. There was only one other customer in the café, who appeared to be a college student. Stooped over homework, the student’s ears were covered by bulky headphones plugged into a computer. Yuuri finished the cold drink, presenting it to Viktor as he retrieved his wallet from his pocket.

“You never invite _me_ to skate,” Yuri said with an overdramatic sneer, hands submerged in a soapy sink. Viktor rolled his eyes with a smile.

“That’s because you can come whenever you want and Yakov knows you,” Viktor replied pointedly, glancing at the teen. “Somehow you managed to put your hair back and still obscure your face,” he teased, handing over his payment to Yuuri. Yuri’s hair was half-back, tied with an elastic band, but his bangs were too short to fit, and fell in his face as usual.

“You’re one to talk,” Yuri muttered, cocking an eyebrow. Viktor lightly snorted, self consciously brushing his bangs aside with his right hand, frowning. He was caught.

“Your hair is stylish, though,” Yuuri assured Viktor with a lopsided smile, but then added “you are still kind of a hypocrite because you used to wear your hair way longer than that.”

“And it looked _great_!” Viktor insisted, wagging his finger for emphasis. “I only cut it because it was such a hassle, plus the shorter hairstyle suits me more now that I am older.”

“Well my hair is only up like this because Katsuki made me do it,” Yuri cut back in, now drying the equipment he had been washing with a towel. 

“Company protocol,” Yuuri explained to Viktor, who had remembered his drink and began to sip it. He hummed in delight, swallowing and grinning at his barista.

“This is great,” he complimented, making Yuuri blush a little even though this was far from the first time Viktor had commended his drink-making skills.

“Thanks,” he responded, “there’s cinnamon in it.” Yuuri pushed his glasses up, and noticed the student that had been sitting at a table had disappeared without a sound. Viktor happily sipped on his iced drink, watching as the two employees began the pre-closing process, the sky outside dark with both the night and with clouds. Yuuri locked the door at one point, and Viktor asked if he should leave. “No, you’re good,” Yuuri assured him, explaining that as a friend he got certain perks. “Plus,” he added, “I need a buffer from Yuri’s attitude.”

“I have not been that bad at all!” Yuri protested, looking up from where he had been sweeping. 

“No, you’ve been fine with the customers, actually,” Yuuri admitted, “maybe a bit quiet, but certainly not obscene like you are to Viktor and I.”

“That’s what you get for being a dog-hater and taking Viktor’s side,” Yuri said, playfully hostile.

“What did you want me to do? Lie?” Yuuri argued desperately, hoping in vain that he could earn the teen’s trust and respect. This was all in good fun, of course, this much was clear by the smirk on Yuri’s face and Viktor’s own smile as he listened to the conversation.

“You could have realized the wrong of your ways and accepted that cats are superior, but instead you opted to agree with this dumbass,” Yuri pointed his thumb to Viktor, who just kept on smiling like the content puppy he was.

“Look, as much as I’d love to have this argument again, I really don’t feel like having the café absolutely trashed,” Yuuri said, opening the register, “so let’s just accept that what’s said is said and let bygones be bygones.”

“Nice try, Katsuki, but you’re not getting off that easy,” Yuri huffed, “I’ll shut up about it, though.” Yuuri nodded, mostly focused on counting the money from the register. Once that was done, he put the bills and coins in a pouch and secured them in a safe in the back room. When he returned to the front, Yuri was mopping and Viktor was on his phone, back against the shiny white counter. Yuuri walked up to him, poked him in the back, prompting Viktor to turn around. 

“You never answered my question earlier, Yuuri,” he said impishly, now leaning over the counter, eyes locked with Yuuri’s. “You’ll come and skate, won’t you?”

“I, uh-”

“Don’t be embarrassed if you don’t know how,” Viktor assured, casually placing his hand over Yuuri’s as a comforting gesture. “I won’t judge you.”

“No, no, I know how,” Yuuri affirmed, perhaps a bit too quick. It wasn’t a lie, though, Yuuri did know how to skate, he even had his own blades back in his apartments. He retracted his hand, forcing Viktor to move his.

“Sorry,” Viktor apologized, although Yuuri wasn’t able to determine whether it was for the hand touch or the assumption that he couldn’t skate. Perhaps it was both. “Will you skate with me, though?”

“Sure,” Yuuri said with a small smile, “just let me know when.” Viktor grinned giddily at this, satisfied with the response. 

“Great! I’ll text you,” he said.

“If you two are done doing whatever this is,” Yuri gestured vaguely at the two, Viktor leaning pretty far over the counter to Yuuri, “I’d like to leave.” The teenager was wearing a hoodie and impatiently fidgeted with his car keys. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Yuuri said, shooing Yuri away, “you’re good to go.”

“See you two shitheads later,” he said, saluting as he pushed the door open. It shut and the two were alone.

“Who does he think he’s impressing with that language?” Yuuri mumbled, earning a shrug from Viktor, who had backed off the counter and was fishing around in his large coat pockets.

“I should go, especially since it’s past closing. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Viktor said with a wink, finally recovering some jangling keys from his pocket.

“You’re always welcomed, you could never overstay,” Yuuri insisted, flipping off the lights, and slipping on his blue down jacket. He pulled a hat over his head and braced himself to step outside into the chilly evening air. He put his bare hands in his pockets, walking towards the door and leaning back on it to open it. Yuuri gestured with his head out the door, prompting Viktor to go ahead of him. “It’s snowing,” Yuuri commented as he let the door shut behind him, stepping outside. He pulled on the handle to make sure it was properly locked, and satisfied, he immediately shoved his hand back into his warm pocket. 

“I always loved snow in the evening,” Viktor said, gazing at the mostly empty parking lot, bathed in a dull orange glow from the street lights. The snow flurries were better seen in the light, quietly making their way towards the pavement. It wasn’t sticking, much to Yuuri’s delight, he did not feel like driving home in those conditions. One hand held his drink, only half finished. Viktor held out a gloved hand, allowing the snowflakes to land on it. He brought his hand up close to his eyes, the little flakes standing out against the black fabric, but he couldn’t see them like he wished in the dim orange light. Slightly disappointed, he let his hand drop and directed his attention to Yuuri, who had just been staring at him. “I was trying to look at the snowflake,” Viktor explained with a slightly tight smile.

“Okayl,” Yuuri replied, blinking a few times. He hadn’t found Viktor’s behavior in need of an explanation, but realized his staring could’ve been misconstrued. Yuuri attempted to wipe off his glasses, the lenses were getting wet. It didn’t help. Defeated, he tilted his head back to stare at the sky instead. 

“Was it supposed to snow?” Viktor inquired, mimicking Yuuri to also watch the snow fall.

“Not that I remember.”

“Hm.” The two stayed like that for a moment in silence. Then, Yuuri shuffled, and Viktor directed his gaze back to him, turning his head.

“Anyway, I should get home to eat dinner, I’m starving,” he remarked, fiddling with his car key in his pocket. 

“I’ll text you about skating,” Viktor said with a subtle smile. “Thanks for the drink. Great as always.”

“It’s just my job,” Yuuri replied modestly with a small smile, and before Viktor could argue, “see you later.” 

~~~

Viktor returned to his apartment, rolling his neck as he shut the door behind him, making sure it closed all the way (sometimes it didn’t). An excited Makkachin bounded towards him, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she took large strides towards her owner. On her hind legs, she threatened to knock Viktor to the hardwood floor, but he was ready for the attack and held his ground as she jumped on him, paws on his abdomen. He greeted her in a high-pitched voice he reserved only for the dog, stooping down to meet her face. The poodle gave him slobbery kisses, eliciting a laugh from Viktor who was wiping his face with his free hand, the other still holding his drink from the café. Once the eager dog was placated, Viktor finally had a chance to take off his coat and scarf, hanging them on the hooks by the door. He grimaced at the ugly orange wall he was forced to look at every single day, never having gotten used to the grotesque interior design choice. He and his roommate had asked their landlord more than once if they could paint over it, offering to buy the paint and do it themselves, but the stubborn woman refused for reasons beyond their comprehension. There were multiple aspects of the apartment Viktor would’ve loved to change, for instance, the awful splatter paint flooring in the bathroom, or the fact that one of the windows directly faced a brick wall which blocked any and all light. There were pros, though, he reminded himself, walking into the spacious kitchen area with updated appliances. He thought about how later he would be able to fall back on a bed large enough for both him and his dog, who was trailing behind him. 

“I never took you to be a coffee person, Viktor,” Christophe said, leaning on the doorframe to his room. Viktor’s roommate was dressed in loungewear, running a hand through his hair lazily. His eyes were on the cup which had been on abandoned the counter.

“Oh, it hardly tastes like it at all,” Viktor said, taking the cup and holding it out to Christophe, who was across the room. “Wanna try?” Christophe nodded, meeting Viktor in the kitchen and taking a sip from the drink. 

“Not bad at all,” he remarked, returning the cup to Viktor, “it’s from that café you keep going to?”

“Yeah, Yuri works there now. My friend hired him.”

“You’re making it sound like you slept with the owner,” Chrisophe teased, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“Nope, he’s just a nice guy, and the manager, Chris,” Viktor said, used to his roommate’s antics. Christophe was notorious for his innuendo and insinuations, which Viktor had grown accustomed to. Whenever Viktor had a friend over, Chris was quick to make a quip, insinuating sexual relations. Viktor always brushed it off with little reaction, either clarifying to Chris that he was simply wrong, or ignoring the comment altogether. Viktor enjoyed the banter as long as he was able to warn his peers of Christophe’s suggestive humor. “Don’t take it too seriously, he says that to everyone,” he’d often have to mutter to a friend. Most of Viktor’s friends didn’t mind and simply laughed along. Yuri was the exception, though, in more ways than one. First, Christophe refrained from making suggestive jokes about the two, not only because Yuri was a minor, but because they had a brotherly bond. Second, Yuri simply wasn’t a fan of Christophe’s jokes, branding them as “gross” everytime he overheard the man’s comments. 

“Well who is this mysterious friend of yours?” Christophe asked, rummaging through some cabinets for a snack.

“His name is Yuuri, with two u’s,” Viktor replied.

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been calling Yuri ‘Yurio’.”

“Yes, and he absolutely loves it.”

“Definitely sounds that way,” Christophe said sarcastically, recalling the teen yelling about the nickname a few nights prior. His shouting was loud enough to be heard through closed doors, and Christophe wouldn’t have been surprised if they had gotten a noise complaint from their neighbors. “And what should I know about Yuuri with two u’s?” He asked, purely out of curiosity.

“No, you can’t sleep with him,” Viktor said with a smile, “he’s too nice for you.”

“I’m offended that you’d think that I’m trying to!” The gasp that followed this statement was dramatic.

“Regardless of that,” Viktor continued, “he’s a barista, graduated college, I think he’s Japanese? Just a sweet guy in general. He helped me when my car battery died.” Chris had settled on applesauce as his snack of choice, and in lieu of using a spoon he would have to clean, he slurped the applesauce like it was a beverage.

“Oh, he’s car guy!” Chris exclaimed, having heard bits and pieces of the story when Viktor was frantically calling the towing company to figure out what went wrong.

“Yeah, he’s car guy.”

“I’ve gotta thank him sometime, he prevented me from having to go wake up at that ungodly hour and help you.” Chris licked the last of the applesauce from the plastic cup, tossing it in the trash. Okay, he tossed it _at_ the trash and he missed by about a foot. Sighing dramatically, he crossed the kitchen to properly dispose of his trash. 

“He’d most likely reject your thanks, he’s too gracious. He never lets me pay full price for a drink,” Viktor remarked fondly, tracing the grooves of the wooden table in front of him with his long, thin index finger.

“Sounds like he’s incredibly compatible with Yuri-- or Yurio. Or whatever the hell we’re calling the kid now.” As Christophe walked behind Viktor, he caught the scent of a fruity shampoo which seemed to constantly permeate from his roommate. He stooped down to scratch the head of the dog who laid on the dark, wooden floor. “This lovely lady needs a haircut,” he commented, running his fingers through her fur.

“No,” Viktor stated firmly, “you are not cutting my dog’s hair.”

“I am a licensed-”

“You’re a barber, not a groomer,” Viktor said firmly, glaring at his roommate, who glared right back. 

“Hair stylist,” he corrected, as he often found himself doing around Viktor. “And I’ve cut hair just as curly and thick as this.”

“No, nope, not happening,” Viktor said adamantly, getting out of his seat to stoop down and pull Makkachin away from Christophe.

“I’d do it for free.”

“I’d rather pay an overpriced groomer.”

“I’m offended you think so little of my skills,” Chris huffed, turning his head away from Viktor who was now sitting on the floor with the poodle in his arms.

“You know full well it’s not that I doubt you, I’ve let you cut my hair, and you know how I am about my hair,” Viktor said, attempting to reason with the dramatic man. “Makka doesn’t like getting her fur cut, I’d rather a professional do it.”

“It’s alright, I can tell when I’m not wanted!” He huffed once more, as if to make his point, refusing to make eye contact with Viktor, who groaned at his dear friend’s antics. Christophe, never one to break character, stood up from the floor, dusted himself off and stomped to his room, shutting the door loudly.

“If we get noise complaints, it’s on you!” Viktor shouted, loud enough for Chris to hear through the thin walls. Sighing, he plopped down on the carpet next to Makkachin, who looked at him innocently, tail happily thumping against the floor. He noted that fur was starting to grow over her eyes, Yes, she needed a haircut, Viktor could admit, but she certainly was not getting one from Chris.


	6. Chapter 6

Viktor was relieved to learn that Yuuri had his own ice skates, which appeared to be a little outdated and worn from use. Perhaps they were a hand-me-down. Really, Viktor was just glad that he wouldn’t have to bother with finding a rental pair for Yuuri, whose left leg was bouncing slightly as he laced up his skates tight. It was a nervous habit Viktor had recently picked up on, appearing at random when Yuuri was sitting down. The first time Viktor noticed it they were at the café, Yuuri on lunch break. He invited Yuuri to sit with him, chatting over coffee. He had politely asked Yuuri to stop moving his leg, as it was shaking the table. Apologetically, Yuuri explained that it was a subconscious habit of his and halted. Viktor had noticed the behavior more than once since then, although he never pointed it out again.

“When was the last time you skated?” Viktor asked as Yuuri stood, far more steady than the children he was used to helping. The young kids would often stand up, unsteady, hands grasping the bench as they balanced themselves. Yuuri stood without holding onto anything, blades balanced and stance grounded. It was a welcome change for Viktor, who was accustomed to keeping a watchful eye on any skaters to ensure their safety.

“I think last winter when I was home in Japan,” Yuuri replied, making his way towards the ice, “it’s been a little while.” Viktor stepped on the ice ahead of him, turning around swiftly to watch Yuuri. He stepped on easily, gliding forward, eyes on Viktor after sparing a glance at his skates.

“You’re already doing better than the kids I taught this morning. It was a beginner’s class,” Viktor said with a smile, turning to begin a lap, Yuuri now at his side.

“I sure hope so,” Yuuri commented with a chuckle. Side by side, the two silently skated a lap around the clean ice, the rest of the rink completely empty. Every clack of the skates against ice echoed, and when Viktor skidded as he turned around to skate backwards, the scraping of metal on ice was audible in the quiet space. Yuuri could tell Viktor was trying to show off, a sly smile playing on the other man’s lips. 

“Don’t run into the wall,” he said instead of giving the impressed reaction Viktor had obviously wanted. The latter raised his eyebrows, navigating the curve effortlessly, holding Yuuri’s gaze as he did so.

“I skate backwards more than forwards when teaching,” he explained, now able to watch Yuuri like he usually watched the kids. Yuuri skated almost as easily as Viktor, which was not entirely surprising considering that he mentioned having skated before, although at the time Viktor hadn’t fully believed him. He definitely did now, though, observing how Yuuri pushed off the ice gracefully with long strides, rather than the short and quick strides customary to beginners. It was odd, he admitted to himself, adjusting from having to watch multiple stumbling children, ready to catch them, to watching Yuuri, an adult, skate with ease. Yuuri made a turn, stepping over his other skate to do so. Viktor concluded that Yuuri had definitely skated before, and more than just a few times.

“My hometown has a small rink,” Yuuri said after a minute of silence, noticing Viktor’s gaze was on his feet. “I skated there a lot when I was younger, my mom was friends with the owner.”

“You mentioned you’re from Japan, right? Whereabouts?”

“Hasetsu,” Yuuri replied, unsurprised by Viktor’s blank expression, not registering any familiarity with the town’s name. “It’s really small, you’ve probably never heard of it,” he added. 

“And how did a small town Yuuri end up in America?”

“Scholarship to a college in Detroit,” Yuuri said humbly, watching Viktor skate backwards around a turn gracefully. “My family heard the American colleges were good, I got a full ride scholarship, I spoke english well, so off I went.” Viktor nodded, acknowledging the response to his question, but not pressing any further. They did another lap in silence, which was not entirely comfortable. Viktor searched for another conversation starter, hoping Yuuri would beat him to it. He did not.

“It’s always amusing to watch couples skate,” Viktor said eventually. He turned back around to skate beside Yuuri, still keeping his eyes on him. “We do open skates on the weekends, and there’s a few different types of skaters. Number one,” he held up one finger, “the couple. One partner usually is much better than the other. They grasp onto each other, usually ending up falling. It’s cute.” Viktor looked at Yuuri as he spoke, body automatically making the turns without a second thought. Yuuri, on the other hand, switched between maintaining eye contact with his companion and staring at his skates, getting into the flow of making the turns. “Another type is the hockey kids. They’re usually young boys, they zip by others, making them think they’re going to bump into them,” he said, narrowing his eyes in annoyance at just having to recall such experiences. Yuuri made the assumption that Viktor had to deal with the hockey kids most often. “Little shits,” he added in a grumble. Yuuri smirked, snorting lightly. “Another type are the junior high students, groups of friends who think it’s cool to go skating, and it  _ totally _ is. We don’t see high schoolers a lot, though. Yurio skates, but not usually during public time.” Viktor ran fingers through his silver hair, and Yuuri wondered if that was its natural color or if he dyed it. The lack of roots showing suggested a natural hue, but for all Yuuri knew, Viktor maintained a strict hair dying routine. “And then there’s the parents, who don’t spend a lot of time on the ice. They usually watch from the side. And I use the word  _ ‘watch’ _ liberally, because that’s really my job,” he explained. Yuuri could picture Viktor, tall and towering, a watchful eye raking through clumps of people on ice. “And there’s just some miscellaneous normal people and then, of course, the employees. We like to goof off and do spins and stuff when we’re not handling the hockey boys.”

“Yeah? What can you do?” Yuuri inquired, gaze back on Viktor’s eyes rather than his hair. It would be rude to ask if it was dyed, right? Viktor smiled, taking Yuuri’s hand suddenly. He turned with his momentum, pulling the two into a wide spin. Flustered at the unexpected movement, Yuuri stumbled a little. The rink was cold, so his cheeks were already pink from the cold, masking the hot blush he felt rising from the surprise. Viktor grinned at him cheekily, completely aware that he had caught Yuuri off guard. They finished the spin anticlimactically, slowing to a stop.

“I do solo stuff mostly, but I like to surprise the other employees by doing that, too,” Viktor said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t fall,” he remarked, still with a toothy smile.

“So what can you do alone?” Yuuri asked, ignorant to the fact that they were still holding hands until Viktor let go, pushing himself backwards and away from Yuuri. Viktor began to skate a lap, gaining speed, and then transitioned into a tight spin, much faster than what he attempted with Yuuri. He recognized it as a flying sit spin as Viktor lowered himself into a squat, his leg sticking out.

“That’s a  _ real _ spin,” he informed once finished, gauging Yuuri’s reaction. Yuuri smiled right back, clapping enthusiastically, the noise filling the empty space.

“Bravo! Full points!” Yuuri shouted at Viktor, who was on the other side of the ice now, making his way back to Yuuri. “And you say you never competed?”

“I learned some of the tricks, but I never bothered to put them together in a routine. Plus, I was kind of sassy as a kid, I wouldn’t have done well with a coach,” Viktor explained, and Yuuri nodded, remembering that he had been told the same thing the first time he asked about competing. “Do  _ you _ know any fancy tricks, Yuuri?” Yuuri snorted lightly in response, staring at his skates, pressing his lips together. He quickly brought his gaze back up to Viktor who had placed himself directly in front of Yuuri. 

“How could I compete with a skating master such as yourself?” Yuuri said, a small playful smile on his lips. Then, he gaze shifted past Viktor, at the door. Viktor turned to see a small, dark-skinned girl enter the rink, a man in a baseball cap following behind her. 

“Ah, looks like our time is up,” Viktor said, eyes flicking up towards the clock to confirm his suspicions. “This was fun, though, you’ll have to come again.” He looked down at Yuuri, who he noted was a few inches shorter than him. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Yuuri responded, holding one arm at the elbow with the other hand, Yuuri skated off, Viktor following lazily behind. As Yuuri sat on the bench to take off his skates, the little girl came bouncing up to him, her grin missing a few teeth.

“Are you Mr. Nikiforov’s boyfriend?” She asked innocently, and Yuuri snorted, more out of surprise than humor, blinking a few times before locking eyes with the child. 

“Uh… no,” he replied, although his red face might have betrayed his integrity. Clueless in regards to Yuuri’s reaction, the girl accepted his response with a curt nod. 

“You’re friends, then?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” he confirmed with a relieved nod. He spared a glance at Viktor, who appeared to be conversing with the girl’s father, babbling amicably. “Are you friends with Viktor?” he asked the girl politely as she took a seat next to Yuuri on the bench.

“Mr. Nikiforov? He’s my teacher,” the girl replied, she was now putting on her own skates next to Yuuri, pulling them out of a bedazzled yellow bag. 

“But he’s your friend, too, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said with a smile, lacing up her small skates. They looked so small in comparison to Yuuri’s. 

“Let me help you with that,” he said, noticing that she was tying the skates far too loose.  _ “She’ll get blisters like that,” _ he thought to himself. Yuuri crouched down, feet clad only in thick, blue socks, and began to loosen the laces in order to tighten them. 

“Usually Dad or Mr. Nikiforov helps me with it,” she admitted, observing Yuuri as he worked. “Mr. Nikiforov is so cool, don’t you think?” Yuuri smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, he is pretty cool. What do you like most about him?” The girl thought about it for a second, and Yuuri could practically see the gears in her head turning, taking the simple question very seriously. 

“He’s nice and doesn’t yell at anyone,” she declared finally, proud of her answer. “My teacher at school yells at us sometimes, but Mr. Nikiforov never does that,” she explained, playing with her hair, which was in braids with multiple colorful barrettes clipped to the side of her head. 

“I think Mr. Nikiforov is nice, too,” Yuuri said, with a soft, genuine smile. She watched intently as he finished tying her skates. “There you go, all set,” he announced, leaning back.

“Thanks! What’s your name?” She asked earnestly, her legs swinging back and forth a little bit. Yuuri stayed kneeling, allowing the small girl to feel taller than him as she sat on the bench. 

“I’m Yuuri, what about you?”

“Gertrude,” she said with a friendly grin, sticking out her hand for Yuuri to shake. He did so, graciously, noting how warm her small hand was in comparison to his cold one. 

“Nice to meet you, Gertrude,” he replied, letting go of her hand. “Unfortunately, I have to go now because you have a lesson, but I hope to see you again,” Yuuri said, pulling on his sneakers without having to re-tie time. 

“Me too!” She said, hopping off the bench, wobbling a little bit as she adjusted to standing on the blades. She put a hand on the seat to steady herself. Yuuri gave her a little wave and began to walk towards the exit. “I think you’re cool, too, by the way!” She shouted after him, causing Yuuri to turn.

“Thanks, you too!” He replied, although not quite as loud. He caught Viktor’s eye on his way out, waving to him, as well. Viktor gave him a sweet smile and a small salute. Then, he turned to the energetic girl as she stepped on the ice. Yuuri left, the door slamming shut behind him. 

“Is Yuuri your boyfriend?” The young girl asked Viktor, hoping to gain a different response. Viktor shook his head calmly.

“Nope,” he replied, crouching down and taking Gertrude’s hands in his own, “sorry to disappoint.” Gertrude pursed her lips for a moment, thinking hard.

“Well I think he’s cool and nice, maybe he  _ should _ be your boyfriend!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, but I do think Yuuri is cool and nice, too,” he said with a hearty laugh. He glanced back up at the door, which had opened again. A small boy entered the rink, a gym bag definitely too large for him slung over his shoulder, and a parent trailing behind. It was time for him to get to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, those meddling kids!


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey?” Yuuri was holding his phone to his ear, having just picked up a call from Viktor. He was standing right outside the café, back against the glass front. He was on his second cup of coffee of the day, which he held in an ungloved hand, thankful for the warmth. He noted that his knuckles were dry and chapped, as were his lips. Perhaps standing in the cold while he took the call wasn’t the best idea. Rather than wait for his car to heat up after lying vacant in the parking lot all morning, he stepped back into the building. Yuri and Phichit gave him confused glances, but he just waved his hand at them, seating himself at one of the tables for two.

“Hey!” Viktor said, reply quick, “so I might have forgotten about my roommate’s birthday, and I may need to get him a present.”

“You have a roommate?” Yuuri was drumming his fingers on the white ceramic composite, trying to recall any mention of a roommate by Viktor, but to no avail. Come to think of it, for all Viktor knew, Yuuri had a roommate of his own. They hadn’t really spoken about their places of residence at all, their meetings relegated to either the café or the one time at the ice rink.

“Yes! My roommate, Christophe. His birthday is today!”

“Valentine’s day?” 

“Yes, it’s very fitting, actually” Viktor said, a door slam audible over in the background. 

“So just get him chocolates or something, I don’t know. I’m not really an ‘idea’ guy, Viktor.” The mention of Viktor’s name caused Yuri to spare another glance at his off-duty manager from behind the counter, but he was in the middle of preparing a drink while Phichit chatted with a customer, so he didn’t make any comment.

“No, no, Chris is a go big or go home person,” Viktor explained, “I have to get him something in addition to chocolates, at least.”

“I’m not sure I’m you’re--”

“Are you working?”

“No, I just got off.”

“So you’re still at the café?”

“Yeah…?” Yuuri confirmed hesitantly, unsure of where this was going.

“Okay, great, stay there, I’m coming to you. You’re helping me find a gift.” The line went dead, and Yuuri stared at his home screen blankly for a moment, frowning. He stood and made his way to the counter. Yuri, expecting him, hardly glanced up. 

“What did Viktor call about?” He asked, putting the lid on the beverage he had been preparing and handing it to Phichit.

“It’s his roommate’s birthday and he doesn’t have a gift, so I guess I’m helping him now? He’s coming here.”

“Chris?” Yuri groaned, “He’s gross.”

“His roommate?”

“Yeah, he makes weird comments all the time, though not about me, _thank god_.” He faked a gag, giving Yuuri his attention since he was no longer actively working. “I’m a fucking minor,” he muttered, low enough that the customer, who was still engaged in conversation with Phichit, didn’t hear his curse. 

“Oh, _that_ kind of ‘weird comments’,” Yuuri said, a flash of realization evident on his face.

“Gross,” Yuri reiterated, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head slightly. Yuuri made his way behind the counter, and began to prepare a drink, although Yuri noticed his abandoned black coffee waiting for him at the table where his phone and jacket remained.

“I could’ve made something,” Phichit chimed in, the customer waving at him on her way out the door. Yuri made no comment.

“It’s for Viktor,” he said, pouring a generous amount of ice into the large plastic cup. 

“I still could have made it,” Phichit, shrugging and typing on his phone, attention divided. “What’s he coming for? You guys hanging out?”

“Not exactly?” Yuuri replied, then explained the situation to Phichit. Yuri listened because he figured he had nothing better to do. 

“But you don’t even know the roommate?” Phichit asked, tilting his head, eyes still trained on his cellphone. Yuuri nodded, then realized Phichit wouldn’t notice it and verbally confirmed. 

“Probably because all his friends are working right now,” Yuri reasoned, “I doubt you’re the first person he’s called.” Yuuri glanced at the clock, it was early afternoon. Yeah, that made sense, most people their age were stuck at their place of work. 

“Speak of the devil,” Phichit said, glancing up as the tall, platinum-headed man entered. Yuuri held the drink out to him as he approached. 

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly. He fumbled for his wallet but Yuuri grabbed his hand before he reached into his pocket.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, releasing his grasp on Viktor’s hand before he held it for too long and made things awkward. For once Viktor didn’t argue, letting his hand drop and accepting the drink. He thanked him again as Yuuri made his way around the counter once more to retrieve his own drink and other belongings. “I got a little… uh, _tast_ e of Christophe from Yuri,” he said as he pulled on his coat.

“An unreliable source,” Viktor said loudly, shooting a glare at Yuri, who stuck out his tongue like the child he was. 

“Well, either way, I was trying to do as much research as possible in a short amount of time given I have _no clue_ who this man is, and Yuri was my only source at the time,” Yuuri commented, raising an eyebrow and pushing up his glasses.

“No offense, but you trusted _Yurio_ to give an impartial opinion on a friend of mine?” Phichit suppressed a laugh at the mention of the controversial nickname. Yuri was fuming, arms crossed and hair thrown dramatically in his eyes.

“I didn’t have many other options,” Yuuri defended, exasperated. “Well, let’s go if you’re in such a rush! We’ll figure this out, I guess.” Yuuri began ushering Viktor out the door, throwing a wave behind him to his employees. “Celestino will be here in a half hour, don’t get into any trouble, please!” Phichit gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up that only made him worry more, and Yuri rolled his eyes, huffing dramatically.

“I wouldn’t have left them alone if I were you,” Viktor commented, unlocking his car. Yuuri hesitated for a moment before opening the door and getting into the passenger’s seat. He supposed it did make sense for them to take the same car. 

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, and my shift is over, and you’re _not_ me. So, yeah.”

“All valid points,” Viktor remarked with a shrug, starting the car. It smelled new, the carpets nearly spotless. Yuri noted there was no trash strewn about, which was typical of his own car. He then recalled that Viktor had actually been inside his car. It was much grodier (and probably about five years older) than Viktor’s little mazda. “All right,” Viktor said, hands on the wheel as he pulled out of his parking spot, “where to first?”

~~~

Yuuri received a crash course on Chris as Viktor drove, and Viktor drove speedily. Yuuri didn’t know if it was the severity of the situation or if Viktor was just a fast driver, but Yuuri refrained from glancing at the speedometer lest he feel compelled to be a back-seat driver. Regardless, Viktor babbled on about Chris and Yuuri absorbed all the information he possibly could. Christophe Giacometti was Viktor’s Swiss hairdresser roommate who he had shared the apartment with for approximately two years. Chris was turning twenty-seven years old, and, as previously stated, his birthday being on Valentine’s day was fitting given his flirtatious nature.

“Does he have birthday plans? Valentine’s plans?”

“He’ll probably kill two birds with one stone because he’s going out to the bars tonight. I am to be the designated driver,” Viktor replied. He did not seem super stoked at the prospect of remaining sober and being his drunken roommate’s chauffeur.

“I feel like I’d hate having a birthday on a holiday,” Yuuri commented, leaning on the window and watching a few couples stroll along the pavement. Most wore boots, even women in dresses. Yuuri felt bad for one lone runner wearing sneakers that were sure to be soaked through with melted snow.

“It’s not that bad,” Viktor said, “my birthday is on Christmas. Though I admit Christmas in Russia isn’t nearly as much of a thing as it is here in America.”

“Your birthday is on Christmas?” Yuuri asked, turning away from his people watching. Viktor kept his gaze forward, eyes focused intently on the red light.

“Yes. When’s your’s?”

“November.” Yuuri recalled how some of his family had flown in from Japan to surprise him with a visit that year. His sister scrutinized his small apartment, while his mother was just glad he had a decent roof over his head. His father had stayed home to run the onsen, but called and gave him birthday wishes, expressing his disappointment about having to stay behind. 

“What day? I don’t plan on missing it,” Viktor said, the car moving forward when the light turned green.

“The twenty-sixth.”

“Oh, we’re nearly a month apart!”

“Yeah,” he said. Then, as politely as he could muster, “How old are you?” 

“Ah, you think I am an old man? It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Viktor replied with a wink. “Sorry to subvert expectations, but I am a young, ripe, twenty-nine.” Yuuri snorted lightly, suddenly feeling like a baby in comparison. Viktor would have been a senior when he was a freshman. 

“I’m an even younger twenty-five,” he confessed, feeling an obligation to share his age, as well. Yuuri knew, though, that his baby face probably made him look younger than that. If he lost a bit of weight, he might look more mature, but he was no longer an athlete and adulthood had made it difficult to maintain a healthy lifestyle. He tried not to think about it too hard.

“Oh,” Viktor replied. _What’s that supposed to mean?_ Yuuri was too polite to say anything, though his curiosity was piqued. Had Viktor thought he was older? Younger? They arrived at their destination, excusing Yuuri from his opportunity to ask. 

The store was local, and had a potpourri of nicknacks and tchotchkes. Decorated mugs, jewelry, quirky signs, funny socks, the whole nine yards. It was the perfect destination to find a gift, and although it was more female-oriented, both Viktor and Yuuri were a little desperate and it was the first place to come to mind. 

“If we can’t find anything you can always give him a gift card to the café,” Yuuri said, looking at some creative designs for bath bombs.

“You guys do gift cards?”

“No, but for you I can make it work.”

“Aw, I’m special,” Viktor cooed, nudging Yuuri’s shoulder by leaning into him. Their shoulders would’ve met if Viktor was a few inches shorter. At some point, the pair separated, on the hunt for a perfect gift. Yuuri considered his options. There were pajama pants with haircare products on them, which would be fitting for the hairdresser. They seemed cheap, though, the fabric rough between his fingers. He decided to leave them behind, figuring that he might be able to find something better suited for Chris. Viktor was looking through a pile of obscenely worded socks, all of which were in the women’s size, when Yuuri shouted his name from across the store. Patrons turned to look at him with raised eyebrows and puzzled expressions. Yuuri’s face went red as the Valentine’s hearts that decorated the shop, and it appeared as if he wanted to shrink away into the wall. Viktor calmly made his way over, heeding Yuuri’s call and ignoring the few eyes he could feel were on him. 

“What’d you come up with?” Viktor asked casually, scanning the shelves behind Yuuri, which were lined with stemless wine glasses. They all had cheesy lines written across them, one reading “sip happens”. He glared at such a terrible joke, surely there had to be better options. 

“Here,” Yuuri held out the wine glass he was holding for Viktor to see. Red cursive text across it read “I give the best blow jobs” with a black hairdryer behind the text. “I figured since he does hair stuff and has dirty humor,” Yuuri supplemented, gaze focused past Viktor as the other customers finally stopped giving him weird looks and returned to their own business.

“Oh, this is _perfect_ , Yuuri,” Viktor said, admiring the cheap wine glass as if it were gold. 

“You could fill it with chocolates or something and give it to him with a bottle of wine, maybe?” Yuuri suggested. Viktor wanted to hug him. He had never been the best at gifts, but Yuuri seemed to be a master, hardly knowing Christophe yet finding a suitable present. He never would have walked into that store, nevermind take time to search through cringe-worthy wine glasses. _Not an “idea” guy, my ass_ , Viktor thought to himself, deciding Yuuri was too humble for his own good. He bought the wine glass, some heart-shaped chocolates (given the holiday it was basically his only option), and told himself not to forget the wine on his way home. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Yuuri, he’s going to get a kick out of this,” Viktor said, sighing with relief that he had found a gift given his limited timeframe.

“How did you even forget, though?” Yuuri inquired, and then, quickly, “No offense! I just--”

“No, no, I’m a very forgetful person,” Viktor assured, easing Yuuri’s distress, “it wasn’t that I forgot _when_ his birthday was, I know it’s February the fourteenth, I just forgot that today was the fourteenth until it was brought up to me. Luckily I never see Chris in the mornings, so he has no idea I forgot.”

“Oh, I see,” Yuuri said, careful not to step in the brownish frozen slush that lined the sidewalk. He shivered a little, he hadn’t expected to go out on the town. He was wearing his coat and hat as usual, but his work slacks weren’t all that thick, and he wished he had brought a scarf. As usual, his hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, cold fingers curled up in an effort to avoid frostbite, still, they were numb. The wind was especially ruthless, and Yuuri felt as if he was walking down the street wearing a mesh jacket. He would have to make himself a coffee when he returned home, or perhaps a hot chocolate? Yes, that was the better option, perhaps three coffees in a day wasn’t the best idea. 

“You’ll have to meet Chris sometime,” Viktor said, breaking the silence, which had not necessarily been uncomfortable. “I rave about your café constantly, he’s just dying to meet you and taste the coffee that doesn’t make me instantly gag.” 

“Funny that this Chris knows all about me, yet I’ve never heard a word about him,” Yuuri quipped, looking at Viktor out of the side of his eye. Viktor’s face was a little pink with the cold, but otherwise, he appeared to be unbothered. He strode tall and confident as always, using a gloved hand to sweep hair out of his eyes. In comparison, Yuuri was scrunched up, arms pressed close to his body, hands shoved in his pockets. He was slightly hunched, most likely in a subconscious effort to conserve body heat. 

“Well, now you’ve heard of Chris. That makes it even, no?” 

“I guess.” 

“Hey, I think we--” Viktor cut himself off, cursing in a language Yuuri could only assume was Russian, Viktor sliding on some black ice. He stayed standing, but not without Yuuri holding him to help him remain steady. Yuuri’s grasp was on one of Viktor’s wrists, touching bare skin where the coat sleeve ended and before his black glove began. Viktor stood still for a moment, likely in shock before straightening up. “Thanks,” he said, chuckling a little breathlessly, “I definitely would’ve fallen on my ass without you.” Viktor stepped off the icy patch, still steadied by Yuuri’s grip. He gathered himself. “Your hands are frigid,” he commented, causing Yuuri to let go of his arm instantaneously.

“Sorry,” he said, hands balled into fists in his pockets.

“For what? Your hands being cold? You should be sorry you’re not wearing gloves.”

“I don’t have any,” Yuuri replied simply as they began walking through the parking lot again, both staring at the ground so as to avoid any more ice.

“How do you not own a pair of gloves?” Viktor asked incredulously.

“I just… don’t? I’m not much of a shopping person,” Yurri attempted to explain, though he had no real viable excuse other than laziness or procrastination. He had told himself multiple times that he should buy himself gloves, but he never acted on it. Yuuri didn’t notice that Viktor had taken his own gloves off until he was handing them to Yuuri. 

“Just wear them for now, your hands are freezing,” he insisted.

“What? No, then you’ll be cold,” Yuuri protested, but Viktor pushed the gloves into Yuuri’s grasp.

“It’s fine, I’m from Russia. This is not the coldest weather I’ve endured.” Viktor’s tone was firm and demanding. Yuuri relented, putting on the gloves. There was a little space at the fingertips between where his finger ended and the glove’s finger ended. Viktor’s hands were larger than his, he noted, as he pulled the gloves to fit better, to no avail.

They drove back to the café parking lot, Yurri returned Viktor’s gloves, he would have felt guilty had he accidentally kept them. They seemed expensive. 

“Any Valentine’s plans?” Viktor asked as Yuuri put his hat back on over his messy, dark hair. He desperately needed a haircut. He laughed a little in response, shaking his head.

“I’m flattered that you think I have a significant other, but no, I will be home alone tonight,” he replied, perhaps a little embarrassed.

“Well then, when Chris is drunk off his ass and I need to text somebody in my sober boredom, I’ll know you’re around,” Viktor said with a smile. They shared a laugh, and Yuuri opened the car door to leave. 

“Thanks for helping me out, sorry it was a bit last minute,” Viktor said.

“No problem, I didn’t have anything better to do, anyway.” That didn’t sound that great out loud, Yuuri realized a moment too late. Viktor appeared unbothered as usual, though, laughing it off with his signature grin.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he said, winking and blowing a kiss jokingly. Yuuri faked catching the kiss in the air, holding the fisted hand to his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s,” he replied, and then shut the door. 

He held his hand fisted with Viktor’s kiss until he had to fumble for the keys to his own car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day <3  
> Happy Birthday Christophe!!  
> Fun fact: I still hate the title of this story, so I'm on the hunt for a better one. Don't be surprised if I change it again ;)  
> Update: I did it. I changed the title. Again.


	8. Chapter 8

(Viktor) He’s so drunk

(Yuuri) Sounds like the birthday boy is having fun then?

(Viktor) Lol u could say that

(Viktor) The funny thing about drunk Chris is that he’s not clumsy

(Viktor) He’s just kinda handsy

(Yuuri) Like, with strangers…?

(Viktor) Uh a bit, but not like super invasively

(Yuuri) Ah, I see.

(Yuuri) Well if he knows I exist tell him I said happy birthday!!

(Viktor) He knows u exist and I will

(Viktor) He says thanks and asked why u didn’t come. I reminded him that he didn't invite u and never met u

(Yuuri) I’d love to come but I’m currently huddled under a blanket and moving is not appealing to me rn.

(Viktor) He is distraught. I reminded him that he doesn’t know u

(Viktor) Like I said, he’s very drunk

(Yuuri) And how are you faring, mr. designated driver??

(Viktor) Oh I’m great

(Viktor) I get to watch Chris flirt with every stranger he encounters, it’s amazing entertainment

(Yuuri) Well he’s taking advantage of the people who come to a bar on Valentine’s day, AKA single people.

(Viktor) Just how I wanted to spend Valentine’s day!

(Yuuri) If it makes you feel any better I ate a burrito alone tonight and called my mom.

(Viktor) Single solidarity!

(Viktor) I was never a huge valentine’s person so idc that much. It’s a capitalist holiday anyway

(Yuuri) People in school always exchanged chocolates and stuff but that’s the extent of my experience really. 

(Viktor) Ok Chris is trying to dance with me now I gtg

(Yuuri) Have fun!! Good luck!!

~~~

Since their Valentine’s day escapade, Viktor had begun coming to the café at least a few times a week, typically coordinating his visits for when both Yuris were working. Yuri always refused to serve him, which would have been deemed unprofessional had the establishment been a franchise, but Yuuri understood the nature of Viktor and Yuri’s relationship. He took it upon himself to make Viktor’s drink, surprising him with a new beverage each time as requested.

Viktor sent pictures of Makkachin consistently, always making Yuuri’s day. Sometimes it was a photo of the poodle on a walk, or perhaps curled up in front of a fireplace, or perhaps receiving a belly rub from Viktor. Yuuri had professed more than once a desire to meet the happy poodle, completely besotted despite not having actually met Makkachin. 

One evening, when Yuuri was texting Viktor while eating dinner alone in his apartment, he sent a picture of his own. He was young in the photo, probably middle school, and in his arms was a dog. His dog was smaller, scruffier, the fur a lighter shade of brown in comparison to Makkachin, but otherwise resembled her. Yuuri looked mostly the same, though. Perhaps he had put on a few pounds and grown his hair out a little since then, but he was still recognizable. His glasses looked the same, having kept the same frames since then, only replacing the lenses as his vision steadily grew worse. He wore a plain t-shirt and shorts, and was looking down at the dog in his gasp, laughing as the puppy licked his face. He wasn’t quite sure why he had sent the picture, perhaps he was just feeling nostalgic. Plus, he felt he owed it to Viktor with all the dog photos he actively shared.

(Yuuri) The cats vs dogs debate with Yuri was biased from the start

(Viktor) You have a dog?????

(Yuuri) He passed away a little while ago

(Viktor) Oh I’m sorry

(Yuuri) It’s ok. 

(Yuuri) His name was Katsudon, after my favorite japanese dish. He was a rescue, so he had some underlying health issues. 

(Viktor) Aww that’s a cute name

(Viktor) I’m sure he lived a good life with u

(Yuuri) Oh yeah he did, I spoiled him rotten.

(Yuuri) I snuck him food under the table all the time.

(Viktor) Haha I do the same with Makka sometimes

(Yuuri) I was here in America when he passed which was pretty sad. 

(Yuuri) But it’s ok tho, life goes on. It’s been over a year since then.

(Viktor) I’m still sorry for your loss

(Yuuri) Thanks :)

(Yuuri) Makka kinda reminds me of him, so I really like getting pics of her!!

(Viktor) Aww, I’m glad we can cheer u up!

(Viktor) _sent an image_

Viktor appeared to be lying on some dark gray carpeted floor, the head of the fluffy brown poodle visible next to him. Yuuri could tell Viktor’s hair was damp, hanging in more clumped strands than normal, a little darker. The dog was obviously asleep, eyes shut in her peaceful slumber, mouth hanging open in a snore. Viktor gave the camera a peace sign, smiling lazily. The photo was a bit less staged than what Yuuri typically received. Never had he seen it so sloppily taken, never had Viktor been pictured with his hair wet, and never had the dog and the man been half cut out of the frame. Every image Yuuri had been sent seemed instagram-ready, and he had begun to wonder if Viktor just always looked so well-put-together. This photo debunked that theory though, _not that Viktor looked bad._ Yuuri didn’t mind that the photo was a little more casual, it didn’t withdraw from its value. Sure, it might have been a tad blurry, and perhaps a bit grainy in the low light, but it was still a photo of Viktor and Makkachin, and Viktor had been correct in his assumption that the photos of Makkachin cheered Yuuri up. Yuuri replied that the two were adorable, realizing the implication of calling both Makkachin and Viktor adorable a moment too late. Sometimes he hated texting because the nuance of conversation was missing; an alteration of tone could change the entire meaning of something in spoken discussion, but not so much over text messages. Maybe that’s why he didn’t text people a lot, although that wasn’t a large issue for his communications with Viktor (maybe because it was mostly photos?). To Yuuri’s relief, Viktor either didn’t pick up on the accidental compliment or pretended not to notice, thanking him with a typed-out laugh. 

~~~

 _Alright, so this is unusual_ , Yuuri thought, back against a wall, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly as he observed his coworker. Yuri was smiling, and it was not a sneer, and it was directed at a customer _._ Yuuri watched, remembering how Yuri had insisted he take the customer while Yuuri worked on another’s drink. Said customer could’ve been Yuuri’s age, but he had to admit he looked exponentially cooler, donning a black leather jacket, his dark hair styled in an undercut. Yuuri had long finished the other customer’s drink, sending the frazzled businessman on his way, so he observed as Yuri made this man’s drink, chatting quietly with him. He was no longer smiling, but he did not look discontent. His small hands worked on the shiny silver espresso machine, the process now mostly automatic after a few weeks of training. Black sneakers squeaked a little on the light gray tiled floor as Yuri prepared the beverage. He wrote a name on the cup in black sharpie. Ah, so the mystery man had a name: Otabek. The two spoke in low voices, not a constant stream of conversation, but not uncomfortable, either. 

Yuri could feel his manager’s eyes on his back, and slightly regretted inviting Otabek to visit him at work. It wasn’t a big deal, really, but he knew Yuuri would be curious about the situation.

“It’s a nice place,” Otabek commented, voice quiet but not a whisper.

“Thanks...?” Yuri replied. It’s not like he owned the place, but he figured that not accepting the compliment might be rude. “The manager is a friend of a friend,” he added, for good measure.

“What friend?” Otabek questioned, watching as Yuri put a white, plastic lid on his finished order. 

“No one from school,” Yuri said, sliding the beverage across the counter to Otabek, who slid a card to Yuri in return. Yuri pointed out the small, white block on the counter, in which Otabek could insert the card to pay. 

“What friend?” Otabek asked once again, insistent. 

“Viktor,” Yuri replied, an eyebrow raised. Otabek hummed an acknowledgement, very familiar with Viktor’s name. He took a sip of the drink that Yuri believed had too many espresso shots. Then again, he was vaguely aware that college was more demanding than high school, so perhaps he was not in a position to judge. Otabek nodded, a silent _“this is good”_ to Yuri, who returned the nod, a silent _“thanks”_. 

Yuuri was right at his side as soon as Otabek left, and dreading the fated conversation, Yuri turned to his manager. He just stood silently, waiting for the younger to explain himself, attempting to avoid addressing the elephant in the room himself for fear of prying. Instead of doing so, stubborn as ever, Yuri snatched the sanitizing spray from under the counter and a paper towel, walking around to clean the surface. He spritzed the white granite, wiping with a fluid back and forth motion. He then became intent on scrubbing one spot where a little bit of an unknown substance had dried and made the surface tacky. Giving up on the silent treatment, Yuuri knocked twice on the counter from the barista’s side to gain Yuri’s attention. He looked up with his typical soft glare, interrupted from his task which he was totally super focused on for normal reasons.

“What was with the special treatment of that guy?” He asked, not sounding agitated, but not as teasing as Yuri had expected, either. 

“I know him,” he replied, curt. 

“You never chat with customers.”

“Right. Because I don’t know them,” Yuri said matter-of-factly with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Fair enough,” Yuuri said with a shrug, leaving his employee to continue his work, obviously craving more information. He had been writing something in a notebook before he had been interrupted to help Yuri with the rush, which had since dissipated, so he now continued. Yuri had expected more of an interrogation, he knew his behavior was out of the ordinary, and he knew Yuuri was interested in why he was chatting with Otabek. Yet, Yuuri had returned to scribbling in his little journal, intently focused. He was too damn polite. Yuri wasn’t about to complain about this, though, glad to not have to go into detail about how he knew Otabek, and who he was. Viktor would have towered over him with his stupid smile and asked stupid questions to find out every single little, stupid nugget of information about Yuri’s friend. And, yeah, it was probably because Yuri was a bit of a loner, not that he cared, but of course Viktor did. 

“When _I_ was in high school--” Viktor would always drone on, telling endless tales of drunken debauchery and humorous situations that were most likely embellished. Yuri didn’t need any of that shit, though, content with getting decent grades and avoiding group projects at all costs. There was one time a group project didn’t fail epicly when it could have, though. Viktor had forced the story out of him one evening.

“We had a group project in ,” he explained on one of their dinner nights, over a year ago at this point. “My partners were shitty, me and one other guy had to carry the whole thing.”

“Who?”

“It’s not like you know him,” Yuri said with a huff.

“How do you know that?”

“Because he’s in high school? And you’re an actual adult?” Viktor just shot him a glare, and with a labored sigh Yuri gave up Otabek’s identity. 

“What grade?” Viktor asked eagerly, delighted that a real person with a real name had gotten along with Yuri enough to complete a project.

“He’s a senior.”

“Ah, so far beyond your intellect, Yuri,” Viktor surmised, nodding his head definitively, glancing at Yuri for a reaction to the teasing. The latter just rolled his eyes. “You should be friends.”

“It was just for a project,” Yuri said, although he wouldn’t admit aloud that he wouldn’t mind befriending the guy. He was cool. But he was just about to graduate, anyway, so it didn’t seem to be worth it. 

“One time when I had a group project-- I forget what course it was for. Science, I think? Who knows, I never took a science course after sophomore year of college. _Anyway_ ….” Yuri sat through Viktor’s story. Something about a frog in someone’s hair. 

He mulled over his options with regards to Otabek, who he determined he could possibly befriend. He was older, he was kind of bad-ass, and he cared about others just as much as Yuri did (which was to say that he didn’t). Yuri ended up texting him later that night, having acquired his phone number from the horrific project experience. Stuck doing the work together, it wasn’t the first time he had messaged Otabek. Actually, their exchanges determining how to handle the dire situation had been quite lengthy, more words were typed between them than the two combined spoke during a school day. That evening, Yuri had noticed that the teacher had graded the project, taking into consideration a strongly worded email Otabek had sent on his and Yuri’s behalf about their group mates. They both earned the same grade, nearly a perfect score. Yuri commented on this in his message to Otabek, who only took a few minutes to send his own reply.

Somehow, Yuri had remained in contact with him even after Otabek graduated, though he supposed it helped that Otabek attended the local community college. He had been so kind as to visit Yuri at work, which, come to think of it, he _really_ hoped Yuuri wouldn’t bring up to Viktor. Sparing a glance at the manager, though, it didn’t seem as if he was too worried about Yuri’s mysterious friend, engrossed in glancing between something on his phone screen and writing in his notebook. Letting out a sigh of relief at avoiding questioning, he returned to his spot behind the counter, discarding the paper towel he had been using and putting the spray back in its place. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and checked it quickly while Yuuri was preoccupied. Otabek had texted him a thanks for the coffee. He allowed himself a small smile for just a moment, before pocketing his phone again. He didn’t feel like getting scolded like Phichit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Yuri and Otabek's relationship is, this story will never put a definition on it. If you think they're bros, then they're bros. If you think they're more... then well they can be more! Given that I already struggle with figuring out how to write Yuri I don't need to throw a relationship I definitely don't know how to write into the mix. 
> 
> TLDR: Take Yuri and Otabek's relationship as you see it.
> 
> Also I dislike this chapter but you've gotta have some filler so meh  
> Also also happy 1 month anniversary of publishing the first chapter :)


	9. Chapter 9

“I’m running out of drinks to surprise you with, Viktor,” Yuuri said, eyes focused on his work but body going on autopilot. Nearly two years of being a barista made the process of preparing an order automatic, Yuuri often had entire dialogues in his head during work. This time though, he was able to have an out-loud dialogue given the other person who was talking to him. Yes, rather than distracting his mind with everything and anything as he often found himself doing, Yuuri’s mind was able to focus on Viktor. He saw him multiple times a week at this point, about a few months into their friendship but closer than ever. 

“Well I don’t mind repeats, mostly everything you make tastes good,” Viktor replied, multitasking as well, gaze on his phone screen as he tapped. 

“I make drinks according to your preferences, so of course you like them most of the time. We have more drinks but only so many of them are sweet and iced.”

“I’ll take a hot drink next time, then,” Viktor said simply.

“Alright,” Yuuri said, finishing up the iced latte and placing it on the counter in front of Viktor, who turned his phone off and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “But don’t blame me if you burn your tongue because you’ve only ever gotten iced drinks.” Viktor rolled his eyes in lieu of making a snide comment given that his mouth was full of coffee. He swallowed, giving Yuuri an affirmative nod that told him _“It’s delicious!”_. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, placing the cup back down and reaching his hands into his left jacket pocket. He produced a pair of gray gloves, woolen with leather on the fingers on the palm-side. “These are for you,” he said, putting them down in front of Yuuri.

“Viktor,” he said, snorting lightly, “you know I can’t accept these.”

“Nonsense. You need gloves, you get gloves,” he stated firmly. When Yuuri opened his mouth to argue, he continued, “And if you bought gloves, it never hurts to have one more pair, but I have a feeling you did not buy yourself gloves.” Yuuri shook his head fondly, which told Viktor that no, Yuuri had not bought himself gloves. Of course he hadn’t bought himself gloves.

Viktor had assumed that Yuuri always shoving his hands into his coat pockets was simply another nervous habit of his (one of the many he appeared to be picking up on), but feeling his frozen hand for the first time told him otherwise. Viktor truthfully had not considered that Yuuri got colder than him, he had forgotten that not everyone spent their childhood in the cold northern temperatures of Russia. So, he took it upon himself to purchase gloves for his friend, determined to warm his small, frigid hands. 

“You’re not paying for that, then,” Yuuri said, gesturing towards the drink.

“Fair enough,” Viktor conceded, though he still considered it a win because they both knew the drink and the gloves were not of equal value.

“Thank you, you know you didn’t have to do that,” Yuuri said, finally accepting the pair of gloves. He tried them on, and they fit, unlike Viktor’s gloves which had been too large for his small hands. They were thicker, too, and although the mobility of his hands were limited, the purpose of keeping them warm was achieved. 

“They have the tech finger thingies, too,” Viktor said with a grin, far too excited about just a pair of gloves. Yuuri confirmed this fact with evidence, opening his notes app to try to type something. He did so by typing like his mother, jabbing the screen with his pointer finger. It worked, though, the letters spelling out accurately, even if he had to tap a couple more than once.

“And you said that you’re bad at gifts,” Yuuri said, turning his phone off and taking the gloves off.

“You made it easy by not buying something completely practical for yourself,” Viktor replied pointedly, to which Yuuri couldn’t find a valid argument. “Consider it a thank you for helping me out for Chris’ birthday. He loved his present, by the way.”

“Aw, a Valentine’s gift? Thank you,” Yuuri joked, unsure of what force of the universe overtook him to make such a flirty quip. Viktor paid no mind to it, though, immediately replying sarcastically and with a wink added for effect.

“You’re welcome, darling.” Yuuri laughed off the interaction, his cheeks dusted a little pink. He was about to speak again when Yuri entered the shop, prompting the newly installed bell at the door to ring. He was not alone, and the smile he had been donning dissipated when he noticed Viktor. Yuuri was almost sure Yuri was just going to turn around and leave, but Viktor beckoned him over with a wave and a friendly greeting. Before Viktor could even ask about the aloof stranger trailing him, Yuri introduced him.

“This is my friend Otabek, we were in high school together,” he said gruffly, Otabek’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly, likely taking question with Yuri’s irritated tone, but he said nothing of it, instead offering a nod to Viktor.

“Oh, I remember you,” Yuuri chimed in, almost instantly regretting the comment when both Yuri and Viktor gave him two completeely different expressions. Otabek only tilted his head slightly, betraying little information of what was going on in his mind. 

“Remember from where?” Viktor asked with faux innocence. Yuri’s eyes angrily demanded that Yuuri shut his fucking mouth right fucking then, but Yuuri relented, his loyalties lying primarily with Viktor.

“He visited Yuri during work a week or two ago,” he replied with a nervous chuckle. He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, noting to himself that his hair was growing a bit too long and probably needed to be cut.

“Oh, really? I wonder why I didn’t hear about this?”

“Because you’re fucking weird about this shit, Viktor,” Yuri spat, “you can’t just let me have friends or whatever, you have to get all up in my business about it and you act like it’s a big fucking deal! News flash: it’s not!” Yuri looked as if he was about to speak again, possibly with more curses and a higher volume, but Otabek silently put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head at Yuri when they made eye contact. It wasn’t a “I’m disappointed” shake of the head, but Yuuri couldn’t quite place what it meant. Whatever it was, the message got across to Yuri, who relaxed his shoulders, let out an irritated sigh and clenched his jaw. Viktor remained, for the most part, unphased. Sure, his wide eyes and frozen stance suggested shock, but it didn’t seem as if he took any offense to Yuri’s harsh rhetoric which seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Yuri,” Viktor tried, dropping the nickname for once, tone devoid of its usual amusement.

“Whatever.” Yuri turned on his heel, leaving the shop. Otabek stood for a moment, then followed his friend out. 

~~~

“What was that all about?” Otabek asked as he strode alongside Yuri who was staring at the sidewalk.

“It’s nothing,” Yuri said quickly, but then relented, looking at Otabek out of the corner of his eye. “He just always acts like he knows better than me because he’s older. And, like, yeah, sometimes he _does_ know better. But he’s also sometimes a big fucking bumbling idiot and an asshole. Cocky as shit.”

“So… what? He tries to give you advice and cares about you?” Otabek commented matter-of-factly. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, black boots stepping around puddles of melted snow.

“I mean, yeah, _that_ , I guess, but also he’s just insufferable! Like, he’s got this big ego and always spins it to make it about him somehow.” Otabek hummed in acknowledgement, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“He’s not the only one with an ego, though,” he replied eventually, smirking at Yuri as his shoulder rammed into Otabek’s arm good-naturedly. “But, like, seriously, can I give you a word of advice?” He was suddenly solemn again, and his walking pace slowed. 

“Go for it. You’re cooler than Viktor, anyway.”

“Don’t underappreciate someone who does genuinely care for you,” he said quietly but simply. There was little personal emotion attached to Otabek’s guidance, and Yuri could tell he was not exactly speaking from experience. “It seems like you guys are kinda like bickering brothers, right?” Yuri looked like he was about to protest, but quickly clamped his mouth shut. Otabek continued, “At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from how you talk about Viktor. Don’t take that kind of love for granted.”

“Love? That’s a strong word, isn’t it?” Yuri said, walking with his hood up and posture hunched. He looked to be the perfect stereotype of an edgy teen, all that was missing was vibrant dyed hair and some face piercings.

“I guess. But I love my little sister, I can say that without hesitation. I think Viktor has his own kind of unique older brother love for you, if that makes sense.” Oh. _Oh_. Otabek saw it from Viktor’s point of view. This realization dawned upon Yuri, although his face wouldn’t betray it. 

“But it’s not like he’s super protective of me, he lets me do whatever the hell I want for the most part.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Otabek said, stopping in his tracks and leaning against the railing barring them from falling into the large river they were walking alongside. 

“Isn’t he _what_?”

“Protective,” Otabek remarked. Yuri shook his head no, so he continued, “from what you’ve told me he usually basically interrogates you to death, which, admittedly, can be kind of annoying. But he also is checking in on you, and he’s invested in your life.”

“Yeah and he insists I need to get out there, make more friends... be like _him_ , basically. He uses himself as this perfect example, but he’s not fucking perfect. He’s got his problems, too.”

“He’s trying to draw from his own experiences, because he is more experienced than you whether you like it or not. I’m not saying it isn’t annoying or narcissistic, but it is rationale for his behavior.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuri agreed, although without much enthusiasm. He leaned on the railing with his arms, propping his head on a hand. “But it’s like, everyone thinks I need to make more fucking friends or whatever, but people suck.”

“Excluding me.” Yuri snorted.

“Excluding you.”

“Does your manager suck? The asian guy?”

“Katsuki? Not really. He’s just kind of a wimp, and he’s Viktor’s friend, so yeah.”

“Got any coworkers?”

“Phichit is alright, though he’ll talk your ear off which is annoying as shit. And Katie can be okay, though she’s a bit quiet,” he recalled. “The owner, Celestino, is a bit too energetic for a guy in his forties but he’s decent.”

“And who told you to look for a job?” 

“My mom, mostly,” he answered, glancing at Otabek, whose back was against the railing. He was looking forward ahead of him at the cars passing by. “Viktor encouraged it, too.” 

“And you like these coworkers? You’ve gotten better at talking to customers?”

“A bit, I guess. Where are you going with this?” Yuri let out a dramatic sigh.

“Then what’s so wrong with making friends and socializing? Were your mother and Viktor wrong? From my perspective, not really.” Yuri did not reply, instead looking thoughtfully at his friend, who caught his eye after a moment of him staring. “What?”

“When did you get all insightful? It’s not like you’re a big socialite, either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but talking to all types of people definitely helps you appreciate many perspectives. You don’t have to _like_ everyone.”

“Well I find it hard to even tolerate some people.”

“Your tolerance has gotten better since this job, though,” Otabek pointed out, which only made Yuri flustered. He hadn’t noticed any difference in his own life, really, but apparently Otabek had.

“Except that I lashed out at Viktor earlier.”

“But then you held back from continuing.”

“Only because you made me.”

“I touched your shoulder, I didn’t _make_ you do anything.”

“Shut up. Whatever.” Yuri rolled his eyes, arms now crossed but still leaning on the railing. The sky was hazily clouded, but the sunshine was attempting to poke through and make it feel ever so slightly like springtime. Without that warmth, though, the breeze from off the water sent chills down Yuri’s spine and he regretted wearing nothing more than a hoodie. He slipped his hands down into the sleeves, thankful that he had bought the sweatshirt an extra size larger. The cold metal of the railing wasn’t helping much either, and Yuri observed that Otabek had his arms crossed, hands tucked under his armpits. They both silently agreed to continue on with their stroll, chatting and moving on from the uncharacteristically serious subject matter. Yuri hoped that Otabek would offer to give him a ride home on his motorcycle. The motorcycle felt cool, the cold, jagged wind, the blurry surroundings. Yuri never felt more grounded than when he was uncomfortably clinging to his friend on a two-wheeled vehicle with no seatbelt going probably just a little above the speed limit. 

~~~

(Yuri) you’re not mad right

(Viktor) No, it’s fine. I know I’m pushy sometimes

(Yuri) it’s fine.

(Yuri) you can ask me about shit but don’t make such a big deal of it, ok?

(Viktor) Alright, alright

(Yuri) otabek thinks you’re alright btw

(Viktor) I’m honored!

(Viktor) I will be asking about this friend of yours at dinner tomorrow tho :)

(Yuri) whatever thanks for the warning i guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I don't really love this chapter, but it exists now. I struggle to write for Yurio without making him seem like a petulant child, honestly. Hope y'all enjoyed it regardless.


	10. Chapter 10

Yuuri was in the middle of a shower when the lights flickered for a moment, and his heart skipped a beat. The wind outside was brutal, he knew, and the snow was falling in wet, heavy flakes, sticking easily to the ground. Luckily, though, the lights stayed on and Yuuri wasn’t forced into darkness in the windowless bathroom. The lights flickered once or twice more during Yuuri’s shower, which made him extremely uncomfortable. He dreaded turning off the nearly scalding hot water, knowing that then he would have to step out of the shower and into the cold air that snow brought. He did so eventually, wrapping himself in a towel as quickly as possible, his wet, bare skin gaining goosebumps due to the temperature change. It was at that moment that the lights decided to shut off. So generous were the powers of the universe that they decided that the power would fail after Yuuri stepped out of the shower! Yuuri cursed loudly in his native language.

It is at this point that the author would like to remind the reader that the heating in Yuuri’s apartment was subpar, so he was already starting at a disadvantage. The snow had no intention of stopping anytime soon, so he assumed that the electricity was going to stay shut off. Bearing this in mind, Yuuri donned a double layer of socks, and the blankets wrapped around his shoulders dragged on the floor as he made his way around the apartment to make himself a pot of mac and cheese on the gas stovetop. He resisted temptation to use his phone as he ate, knowing that he would have to conserve its power; but when Viktor texted him, he felt it would be far too rude to not reply and allowed himself to do so, happily unlocking his phone to see a new picture of Makkachin.

The photo made Yuuri realize just how bad the snow was, as the large dog was leg-deep in it. There was white powder all over the dog’s face, and it had been evident that she had likely shoved it into the snow. Yuuri recalled that his own puppy, Katsudon, also sniffed and ate snow like that, and Viktor’s picture made him smile to himself, even as a spoonful of mac and cheese was in his mouth. 

(Viktor) _sent an image_

(Viktor) This was from earlier, she’s soaking wet now. I’ve banished her to the kitchen area

(Yuuri) Omg that’s adorable I love her!!

(Yuuri) I still need to meet Makkachin, it has to happen. If I don’t I won’t be able to die a happy man. 

(Viktor) I’d invite u over now but there’s like 2 feet of snow outside

(Yuuri) That’s what you get for living in the northeast.

(Viktor) Compared to Russia this is nothing

(Yuuri) Well this isn’t Russia and I’m cold so honestly idc.

(Viktor) Put on your gloves if you’re cold!

(Yuuri) Yes I do have those on along with many layers of blankets.

(Yuuri) I lost power :)

(Viktor) Oh no that sucks

(Viktor) Where do you live

(Yuuri) _shared their location_

(Viktor) I live not that far away… I have power

(Viktor) Do u wanna come over for the night?

(Yuuri) Oh I couldn’t.

(Viktor) But u could

(Viktor) I don’t want u to freeze to death Yuuri

(Yuuri) I really don’t want to intrude, it’s fine I’ve dealt with power outages before.

(Viktor) Chris isn’t even here, he was at a friend’s when the heavy stuff started. He neglected to check the forecast like an idiot

(Yuuri) Really I’m ok!!

(Viktor) Are u sure?

(Yuuri) Yeah it’s fine!! Dw about me.

And Yuuri thought that was the end of the conversation, which was probably alright considering he did need to conserve the power on his cellphone. If Viktor had continued the conversation, though, Yuuri would have gladly exchanged texts with him until his battery died. Yuuri finished his meal in the relatively quiet apartment, sitting alone with more than one candle lit. They were all scented candles, of course, and he wondered if the conflicting aromas would create a new, lovely scent, or something utterly repulsive. Either way, he didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted any source of light around him. Yes, there were windows, but it was evening and the streetlights were out, too. The sky was crowded with heavy gray clouds that ejected the thick snow that was causing Yuuri’s predicament. When he heard a knock on the door he assumed it was going to be the landlord checking in, or something of the sort. He did not expect Viktor, but, evidently, that is what he got. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He whisper-shouted, attempting not to disturb his neighbors through thin walls. 

“Kidnapping you!” Viktor himself was bundled up far more than usual, wearing a dark green down coat rather than one of his fashionable brown or gray ones. The gloves he wore were thicker and had much more function than what he typically used, and the snowboots he was clad in looked clunky and large on feet that typically wore sleeker, slimmer styles. 

“What?” Yuuri muttered under his breath in japanese, then louder, for Viktor to hear, and in english, “What?”

“You refused to come to my apartment so I am kidnapping you to bring you to warmth,” Viktor said proudly, hands on his hips. It was not a question, it was an announcement. Yuuri didn’t have it in him to argue with Viktor, especially since he had evidently trekked his way over in the snowstorm. It was actually quite flattering Yuuri noted as he waved his hand to invite Viktor inside. 

“How’d you find me?” He questioned as he shed his blanket in favor of more mobility to quickly pack an overnight bag.

“You sent me your location.”

“But I never told you which apartment I lived in.”

“Yes, I had to knock on doors and ask. Luckily the third person told me which apartment you lived in. I apologize if I made your neighbors dislike you.” Yuuri chuckled in response, Viktor was so straightforward and sometimes a bit unfiltered, yet it was endearing. Yuuri would have loved to be able to speak with such confidence at times, but he was prone to overthinking and apologizing far too often. 

“I doubt you’ve damaged my reputation, all my neighbors are far louder than me,” he responded, his back to Viktor as he grabbed his toothbrush from his bathroom. He didn’t feel the need to pack any extra clothes, figuring his long-sleeved waffle shirt and sweatpants were alright as pajamas. He grabbed a few things from his room, leaving Viktor to stand awkwardly in the living room area and observe the little space.

“It is really freezing in here already, and you lost power when?”

“Over an hour ago now,” Yuuri said, glancing at his phone screen to calculate the time passed, “this building has no insulation.”

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

The pair walked the few blocks to Viktor’s apartment, resorting to walking in the plowed street in favor of the non-visible sidewalk. Yuuri kept glancing behind them to make sure a car wasn’t going to run the pair over. Viktor noted aloud that Yuuri was wearing the gloves he had given him, his cheeks either flushed with the cold or with pride. 

“I’ve found they’re very useful, actually,” Yuuri said in response, looking at his hands. “So thanks again, Viktor. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it was no problem, really. I love to shop, so it was almost like a gift for myself as well.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still going to find a way to pay you back for them.”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Viktor wagged his finger at Yuuri like a scolding school teacher, “my drink was free that day, I consider that a reimbursement of some sort-- not that you need to reimburse me at all.” Yuuri scoffed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. They both knew the beverage was not equal to the price of the gloves.

“You can’t escape it, Viktor, I’ll think of something just as thoughtful and generous one day, you’ll see.”

~~~

Makkachin pounced on Yuuri when Viktor opened the apartment door, knocking him to the ground with a violent thud. The dog was large, yes, but it was more the surprise that allowed the excited poodle to tackle Yuuri to the floor. Viktor was apologetic up until Yuuri laughed loudly as Makkachin licked his face, her tail wagging madly. Yuuri’s glasses slid down his nose, crooked on his nose as a result of the fall, but he removed them entirely when the dog’s slobbery tongue had come into play. Yuuri pet her head, speaking to the poodle in the way only dog parents do, cooing and complimenting enthusiastically. 

“Who's a pretty girl? It’s you! You-- augh!” Makkachin, in an attempt to get even closer to Yuuri’s face, stepped on his ribs, causing him to groan but also sputter out a laugh. Viktor stared at the pair fondly for a moment before gently pushing Makkachin off Yuuri and helping him up. He apologized once more, the first time Yuuri had heard Viktor apologize so much in such a short span of time. 

“You can sleep in Chris’ room if you want, he won’t mind,” Viktor said, glancing at Yuuri who was standing stiffly in the living room, clearly awaiting instructions from his host.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t, really,” Yuuri insisted, dropping his bag on the floor by the sofa, “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I made my guest sleep on the couch?”

“You’re not making me, _I’m_ making me. You gave me the option of a bed-- which I appreciate, by the way-- but I refused.”

“You could sleep in my room and I’ll sleep in Chris’ if it makes you uncomfortable to sleep in a stranger’s room,” Viktor offered.

“No, no! That’s not necessary at all! I don’t want to disrupt you or anything!” Yuuri said frantically, he grabbed Viktor’s upper arm and made solid eye contact with him to reinforce his point. “It’s alright, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he stated firmly. Then, he quickly retracted his hand.

“Fine, I’ll allow you to sleep on the couch,” Viktor relented with a heavy sigh, “but I’m making it up all nice for you! It’ll be made up so great you’ll _think_ it’s a bed!” Yuuri almost spoke again, but Viktor cut in suddenly, “And, no, you’re not allowed to help!”

So Yuuri was forced to watch as Viktor put sheets on the sofa, complete with a heavy blanket and a pillow. It didn’t quite live up to Viktor’s promise of feeling like a bed, but Yuuri was thankful nonetheless for the gesture. He wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, though, so he explored the apartment silently, his blanket from home wrapped around his shoulders and dragging on the floor as he walked. Makkachin chased the edge of the blanket as if it were a tug toy that kept eluding her, barking at it ferociously. Somewhere else in the building another dog barked in response, and Yuuri suddenly regretted not just bringing a sweater to wear (after all, Viktor had just shown up unexpectedly, so he didn’t have ample time to pack). 

“Here,” Viktor said, and as Yuuri turned to him, a piece of fabric was thrown into his face. Viktor laughed loudly at Yuuri’s unathletic reception of the projectile, as he yelped in surprise and fumbled with it. His glasses ended up coming off in the process and it took a moment before he realized that he was holding a large sweater. It was plain, a light gray, and with no hood. It wasn’t knit, it was cotton, like a hoodie might be.

“I can’t--”

“Stop being so gracious and accept the sweater,” Viktor said with a roll of his eyes. “Just borrow it for now so Makkachin can calm down.” Yuuri didn’t protest this, just nodding in response and pulling the sweater over his head. It was too large on him, the sleeves went over his fingers and he practically swam in it. Yuuri might not have been as fit as Viktor, but he was still smaller overall. Viktor had large, broad shoulders, and his torso was long. Yuuri was a few inches shorter, and although he had a bit of a gut, his shoulders were nowhere near as large as Viktor’s. 

Yuuri thanked him with a soft smile, and Viktor couldn’t help but return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love myself a bit of fluff :)
> 
> FYI: I changed my username (again) because (if you couldn't already tell) I am indecisive.


End file.
